Private Feelings
by James5
Summary: A tale about the awkward but growing friendship between Reed and Ivy. Spoilers for Chapter One of 'Paradise Lost'.
1. Yin

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Reed**

And now the hard part.

The time had come to actually leave the hospital hallway. The time had come to actually enter the room. With each passing minute, I kept trying. And with each passing minute, I kept failing.

I stared at the numerals — 4007 — watching them as though they were the most fascinating numbers in the world. I stared at the doorknob — smooth and silver — watching it as though I was eyeing a set of fangs.

Taking a deep breath, the latest of several, I tried to remember why I was labeling this the "hard part" again. I tried to recall what I was comparing it to. It was a few seconds later that the answer arrived...and I suddenly found myself feeling a little ashamed. Much as I didn't like to admit it, I realized that it had been easier to face Ivy before — when she was lying still, lying silent, and lying calmly with her eyes closed.

But now things had changed. Now I'd gotten the call, and learned that she'd awakened.

Lowering my gaze, I stared at my sweater and simple pants, hearing the wrapping in my hands crinkle as I hugged the bouquet closer to my chest. How exactly was I supposed to go about this? Did I start with the pleasantries, or did I start with the apology? After all, I couldn't help but feel responsible for her situation. Sabine had been after me. Instead, the girl I'd once called "friend" had shot the girl I'd once called enemy.

Those labels stood out.

For a while now, there had been several moments when I'd paused to consider the funny thing about me and Ivy: In the short span of time that our relationship had changed, she'd turned out to be a truer friend than Sabine ever was.

On second thought...maybe it wasn't such a funny thing after all. Maybe it wasn't so strange. Slowly, my eyes rose to the numbers again, staring curiously.

Much as I hadn't liked to admit it, there had always been something about the girl behind that door...something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. There were moments when I had been perplexed by her, angry at her, and even jealous of her — for obvious reasons. Ultimately, however, I couldn't quite bring myself to hate her — despite how tempting she'd tried making it.

Ivy was on an anti-Billings crusade, and there had been times when she'd made me a part of that. However, there had also been times when I'd looked into her eyes while we were talking, and saw what appeared to be the same thing I'd felt at the moment: restraint. Unquestionably, she'd treated me with the same amount of distrust that she'd give any Billings Girl...but not the same amount of disdain. With my sisters, she'd been angry and spiteful. With me, on the other hand, she'd been mostly arrogant and playful — as though I wasn't quite worth the same level of hostility, as though she'd only lash out when I made her mad, or when I got in her way.

For a few seconds, I recalled a certain something I'd once heard: "Don't play dumb. It's beneath you." My eyes drifted to the floor, and I felt a long-delayed smile overtaking my lips, along with a long-delayed chuckle escaping them. I still didn't know if that statement had been a compliment, but what I did know was that there were times when I'd almost wanted to laugh at the girl behind the door. Not to mock her, and not to taunt her, but because I'd genuinely found her humorous on occasion.

With that positivity in tow, I took another deep breath, gripped the doorknob, and slowly, entered the room.

For the first few seconds, I kept my eyes on the floor, eyeing the white tiles as though they were somehow different from the ones in the hall. Finally — and in no time at all — I found the courage to glance up at the bed. There she was, just as I'd last seen her — lying still, lying silent, and lying calmly with her eyes closed.

Though I was inwardly embarrassed when it came, a sudden wave of relief began coursing through my body...one which quickly faded when another realization sunk in: Ivy wasn't alone.

Swaying my gaze from the bed, I locked eyes with the dark-haired woman in the chair, the woman I quickly identified as Ivy's mother.

My entire body froze...except for my hands, which began nervously playing with the bouquet's wrapping. As the seconds passed, and as my mouth hung limply open, a slew of questions filled my mind. Did she know who I was? Did she know my connection to Sabine? And above all, did she know that I was part of the reason her daughter was lying here?

Maybe it wasn't a slew of questions after all. Maybe those were just several variations of the same one. In any case, while awaiting the answers, I suddenly found myself making more and more noise with the paper. It seemed like part of me was trying to draw her attention away from my shock, and toward my flowers. Away from the negative, and to the positive.

It soon dawned on me that this would only work for so long. I could tell that in about two seconds, she was going to ask for my identity.

"Hi," I whispered, nervously speaking before she could, "...I'm a friend of Ivy's." For the moment, it seemed best to simply leave things at the obvious — no more, and no less.

"Hi," she said back, speaking quite softly. She wore a cute, cream-colored top and stylish black pants, indicating just where Ivy got her sense of fashion from. The only thing marring her appearance was the frown.

"I, um..." My gaze drifted slowly to Ivy again, staring upon eyes that were still closed. Her chest moved up and down with each breath, slowly, gently. "I heard that she'd woken up."

The woman nodded, managing a small grin. "She drifted back to sleep a little while ago."

"Oh," I said quietly. "Well it's...it's good that she's getting better." Duh. I felt like kicking myself, but I didn't know what else to say; I heard this voice in my head telling me to choose my words carefully.

She began to look me over, and I quickly cleared my mind, suddenly worried that she could read it. "A friend." There was a peculiar hint to her tone as she said the words; it sounded almost as though she was surprised that Ivy had any friends.

Quietly, I let my gaze drift downward, wishing I hadn't noticed the curiosity in her voice.

She spoke again, and did so quietly. "Are you her best friend?"

I quickly looked up, and one of my eyebrows had risen.

She continued watching me, waiting for an answer. By the look on her face, I could tell that she was hoping I'd say "yes."

"I, um..." It seemed I just couldn't stop mumbling.

After a while, she decided to ask something else. "How did you two meet?"

Great. Just great. "Well...we..." In that moment, I decided that I had to tell her something that would comfort her, but I also had to tell her something honest. The questions passed through my head immediately. Where was I supposed to begin? What was I supposed to say?

Could I honestly recite all of the nasty details of my history with Ivy? Could I honestly bad-mouth her to her own mother? Could I tell her about our first meeting in the cafeteria? Our arguments over Billings? Our confrontations at the fund-raiser? Our respective feelings for Josh? Our harsh words amidst everything?

Could I admit that we'd only recently become friends? That we'd once been enemies? And if she asked why, could I actually tell her that Ivy had been the aggressor back then?

"I..."

She waited.

Quietly, I glanced over at Ivy once more, watching her still figure, her peaceful face. My previous strategy flashed through my mind again: I had to say something comforting, but I also had to say something honest.

And then, I turned back to Mrs. Slade, and spoke to her softly. "I haven't known your daughter for very long...but I feel like I know her pretty well."

She listened carefully.

Holding the bouquet to my chest, I lowered my eyes to the flowers. "I'm not perfect...and neither is she. Everyone has their flaws...but there are some things that I deeply admire about Ivy." I felt a tiny smile crossing my face; there was a part of me that seemed relieved to admit what I was admitting, and another part of me that felt sort of strange, like I was treading through unexplored emotional territory — which I was.

It was then that I glanced up at Mrs. Slade, and saw that she clearly wanted me to expand on what I'd said.

Lowering my eyes again, I recalled one of my early impressions of Ivy — which was not unlike my early impressions of the Billings Girls. "I've always admired how glamourous and beautiful she is."

Mrs. Slade made a half smile.

"When I actually got to know her fairly well..." I trailed off and glanced away a moment, then looked her straight in the eyes again, licking my lips. "Let's just say that she's got a lot of boldness to her."

She chuckled suddenly, averting her eyes with a knowing grin. "That she does."

To my surprise, I found myself laughing as well. "And..." I briefly paused between chuckles, "there are times when I admire her passion in that regard. There are times when I admire her strength." I slowly nodded, confirming it to myself with a smile.

Mrs. Slade glanced over at her daughter.

"She's got integrity," I said, briefly lifting my eyebrows. "Most girls would do just about anything to get into Billings, and would accept an invitation no matter what, but Ivy..." My words trailed off, as I became worried that I may have hit a sensitive spot.

The woman calmly looked back at me.

After a brief silence, I simply repeated my previous statement, nodding to myself once again as I thought about it. "She's got integrity." And I respected her for it, even if the two of us did have our differences on certain Billings-related matters.

My latest statement had drawn another smile from Ivy's mom. It was then that I began to feel guilty over what I had to say next.

"And, um..." I paused, averting my eyes from hers, "you're not going to like what I have to say now...but there was a time when I suspected that Ivy might be...well..." How could I put this lightly? "There was a time when I thought that she might have been...involved...in some of the things that happened — the things that Sabine did."

She eyed me calmly.

I got the feeling I usually did when I was about to blush. "And I said some things back then...things which I now regret." I made an awkward face as the statement left my mouth. "But your daughter proved forgiving," I nodded, glancing at Ivy again. "And beyond that, she later helped me in a very important way."

Another silence came over me, and I suddenly began to look elsewhere, staring at nothing in particular. I was beginning to realize that I admired a certain someone more than I ever knew — or at least, more than I'd ever been willing to acknowledge.

Looking back toward Mrs. Slade, I saw that she was once again eyeing her daughter...and that was when I noticed a light smile on her face — soft, warm, constant. At the same moment, I could feel something similar radiating within myself. I liked the fact that I'd helped put that smile there. I liked what was happening between Ivy and her mom...and I liked what was happening between Ivy and me.

Quietly, as though I didn't want to ruin anything, I spoke up again. "And another trait of hers that I admire..." I quickly searched my mind for something, remembering my decision to be comforting, but honest. And then I began to smile, crooking my head a tad to the side. "She's pretty good with computers."

Once again, Mrs. Slade chuckled. "...That she is," she slowly repeated, sounding envious.

Eyeing the white tiles with a grin, I felt another pause coming over me. When it ended, I said one of the last things I'd expected to when entering the room. "I was mistaken."

She eyed me with a calm grin. "About what?"

"About what I said before." Looking up, my eyes found Ivy again. "I don't know your daughter quite as well as I once thought I did...and the same can be said for her when it comes to me..." I stopped to watch her for a moment, and then spoke with absolute confidence, "but I have a feeling that all of that's going to change in the near future."

After a little while, I heard Mrs. Slade's soft voice again. "Why don't I let you get started?" With that said, she began to exit the room. "I'm going to grab some coffee."

My hands tightened slightly. "...I'm not sure what I should do."

"Why don't you just speak...say whatever it is you'd like to say." She touched my shoulder as she passed, and a moment later, Ivy and I were alone.

"I..." The mumbling began again, to no one in particular now. Slowly, I turned toward Ivy again, staring at her closed eyes, her serene state. After another moment's hesitation, I quietly walked over to her, carrying the flowers with me.

For a little while, I simply watched her. And then, I gently spoke. "There's one thing I didn't mention...one thing I never took the time to say."

Her slow, calm breathing continued.

"Thank you," I uttered softly. In brief time, my thoughts began moving backward, focusing on a certain moment. "Before I confronted Sabine...you were worried about me." I paused, then slowly nodded, accepting what I was about to say. "You cared about me. I was so emotional at the time that I never stopped to acknowledge it..." my voice lowered, "but I do appreciate it."

Then the silence came again. I simply stared, eyeing the girl before me, beginning to grin as I watched her. Was this really happening? Was this really the beginning of an unexpected friendship? Tossing my gaze upward, I began entertaining the thought, considering the possibilities.

I could see us now, sitting in some high room of her mansion, plopped on a plush cotton cover as we did each other's hair and nails. I smiled as the vision began, seeing the two of us sitting there working — me with my messy 'do and dry skin, Ivy with her smooth locks and ridiculously perfect hands and feet. I chuckled as the vision continued, seeing the two of us sitting there chatting — me liking a certain couple from our favorite show, Ivy deciding she liked another. I giggled as the vision ended, seeing the two of us sitting there teasing — me getting a sudden text message from Noelle, Ivy rolling her eyes, taking my phone, and chucking it across the room.

Looking down at her again, I paused a moment, before quietly speaking once more. "Thanks for looking out for me," I grinned. "Get well soon."

And then, still clutching the bouquet, I slowly bent down, and placed a light kiss on Ivy's forehead. Leaving the flowers by her bed, I turned and began walking toward the door.

I don't know what it was, but as I reached the doorway, something told me to turn back around. Coming to a halt, I did just that...

And then I froze.

For just one second, one all-too-brief second, I saw a stare. Directed straight at me. Calm. Sweet. Peaceful.

And then it was gone.

Almost as quickly as I'd turned around — but not quite — Ivy had closed her eyes again. She'd done it timidly. She'd done it cautiously. And though I couldn't read her mind, I imagine she'd also done it hopefully.

Keeping still, and keeping quiet, she lay there — hoping I hadn't seen what she wasn't ready for me to see. Hoping I hadn't learned what she wasn't ready for me to learn.

Keeping still, and keeping quiet, I stood there — hoping she hadn't heard what I wasn't ready for her to hear. Hoping she hadn't learned what I wasn't ready for her to learn.

Ours had become an odd relationship indeed. There was a time when neither of us had ever expected to feel the way we now did, a time when neither of us had ever expected to become friendly. I lowered my head, grinning at the situation: What we both knew was that things had changed. What we didn't know was how to admit that to each other. It was a case of hidden hearts. A case of private feelings.

As I stood there a bit longer, I began to deliberately make little noises — clearing my throat, scraping my fingers against the door, letting her know that I was still in the room. I stared at her motionless figure, waiting to see if she would open her eyes...waiting to see if she was ready to.

After a while I realized that she wasn't.

And after a while I realized that it was okay.

Our situation wasn't likely to change today, and it wasn't likely to change tomorrow. But as I threw her one more look and left the room, I realized that it might change eventually. Maybe someday, when we were both ready.

Maybe someday soon.


	2. Yang

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Ivy**

My surroundings were hard to describe. My situation was too. I know that "spiritual" sounds cheesy, but I think that pretty much covers it.

Anyway, it felt like I was floating — someplace dark, quiet, and peaceful.

It had been this way prior to my first awakening, and apparently it was going to _be_ this way before each additional one as well — at least until I recovered.

I found myself within an odd realm, a strange, dark place between consciousness and unconsciousness. I'd only come here twice before, and on both of those visits, I'd encountered some sort of passage leading out.

On the first occasion, I'd been faced with a door I had to open. On the second, I'd been met with a bridge I had to cross. It was only after completing these tasks that my eyes would slowly open, leaving me to spot the hazy sight of the hospital ceiling, and the solid white of the surrounding walls.

It seemed that I was being tested somehow — it seemed that I had to pass a series of trials if I wanted to truly "make it back."

What I couldn't understand, however, was why.

For the third time now, I was addressed by a warm and familiar voice, one which I quickly recognized as my grandmother's. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her.

The words she spoke were the same as before: "Ivy...do you wish to continue living?"

My response was the same as well. It came about slowly, but it came about surely. "...Yes."

And once again, she uttered something that always left me confused: "Name a relationship in your life that's worth going back for."

The first time she'd told me to do this, I'd named my parents. Afterwards, the door had opened, and I'd passed through. Next thing I knew, I'd somehow left the realm, and awakened to the sight of the hospital — where my parents were waiting. After falling asleep again later, I'd eventually wound up in the strange place once more.

The second time she'd told me to name someone, I'd mentioned Josh. After doing so, I'd been allowed to approach the bridge, and I'd calmly crossed it. Moments later, I'd awakened again, and found him waiting there in the room. Waiting for me.

Now she was telling me to name someone else, to state one more relationship that was worth going back for.

While pondering this, I became silent.

In time, it wasn't an answer that I put forth, but a series of questions. Who could I name? Why did I have to do this? And though I was happy to hear her voice again, why was my grandmother the one playing host to me in this strange place?

While considering these things, I remained confused, frustrated, and quiet.

And then, I heard something. No — _someone_. Two people, actually.

The sound wasn't coming from within the realm, but from just outside of it — in my hospital room. The first person speaking was my mother. The second person was...

...Reed?

_"I heard that she'd woken up."_

Was Reed really here? Had she actually come...to visit me?

_"She drifted back to sleep a little while ago."_

After my mom said that, the conversation moved back and forth for a few moments. All the while, I felt a constant tension deep within. Reed could tell my mom anything, anything at all. She could mention how I'd treated her the first time we'd met. The constant bitterness I'd displayed. Our respective feelings for Josh. The smug attitude I'd given her.

When the small talk had ended, however, Reed said something I never would have imagined.

_"I'm not perfect...and neither is she._ _Everyone has their flaws...but there are some things that I deeply admire about Ivy."_

She was speaking slowly, but to my surprise, it appeared that she was also speaking sincerely.

_"I've always admired how glamourous and beautiful she is."_

I wasn't sure what to think. It was a very nice compliment.

_"When I actually got to know her fairly well..."_ She paused. _"Let's just say that she's got a lot of boldness to her."_

I could hear my mom chuckling, and in a second, I could hear Reed laughing too.

_"And..."_ she went on, _"there are times when I admire her passion in that regard. There are times when I admire her strength."_

I felt something warm beginning to brew within, something that would fill me up and make me blush to an unsightly degree had I been awake.

_"She's got integrity,"_ Reed said. _"Most girls would do just about anything to get into Billings, and would accept an invitation no matter what, but Ivy..." _She paused all of a sudden, and I could tell that her thoughts had moved to my grandmother. I could tell that she was trying to speak as sensitively as possible...and I found that I appreciated it. _"She's got integrity."_ She said it again.

Then she began to speak tensely, and she slowly prepared my mom for something unpleasant.

_"There was a time when I thought that she might have been...involved...in some of the things that happened — the things that Sabine did."_

Ah, yes. How could either of us forget about that?

_"And I said some things back then...things which I now regret."_

I listened carefully.

_"But your daughter proved forgiving,"_ Reed continued. _"And beyond that, she later helped me in a very important way."_

I found myself surprised once again. She was putting in another good word for me. Actually, it was beginning to sound as though Reed _wasn't_ putting in a good word, but as though she truly meant the things she was saying.

After a little while, I heard her speak again. _"And another trait of hers that I admire..." _Wow — there was actually more? _"She's pretty good with computers."_

At that, my mom chuckled once again. I liked that Reed was putting her in a good mood. _"...That she is," _I heard her respond.

_"I was mistaken."_ Reed went on after a bit of silence, and when my mom asked her to elaborate on the statement, she did: _"I don't know your daughter quite as well as I once thought I did...and the same can be said for her when it comes to me..."_ she paused again, and somehow...I knew that her eyes were on mine, _"but I have a feeling that all of that's going to change in the near future."_

Shortly afterward, my mom left the room, giving Reed her privacy to say what she'd come to say, to do what she'd come to do. Moments later, she approached the bed — I could hear her — and she simply paused, apparently standing over me. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, or what she was doing, but I was sure of one thing: I was glad that she'd come here today. In mere seconds, I was sure of something else as well: I felt better about our relationship now than I had before...now that I knew that some of the strange admiration I couldn't help feeling appeared to be mutual.

_"There's one thing I didn't mention...one thing I never took the time to say."_

Whatever it was, I assumed that she was going to say it now.

_"Thank you,"_ she uttered softly. I briefly found myself wondering what she meant. _"Before I confronted Sabine...you were worried about me."_ She paused. _"You cared about me. I was so emotional at the time that I never stopped to acknowledge it..."_ her voice lowered, _"but I do appreciate it."_

I wanted to tell her that it was all right. I wanted to express my own appreciation, my gratitude for her visit.

It was then that I heard another voice once again — my grandmother's, within the realm. "Ivy?" She spoke softly, gently.

"...Yes?" I calmly answered.

The familiar question came again. "Do you wish to continue living?"

And my familiar response came as well. "...Yes," I replied, beginning to understand certain things I hadn't before.

There was a pause before she said it this time. "Name a relationship in your life that's worth going back for."

Glancing around in the dark realm, I looked for a door, looked for a bridge...but saw absolutely nothing. In time, however, I realized that what I'd heard today was far more important than anything I could have seen. And then, with absolute confidence, I knew it was time to say something myself: "Reed." I spoke the name loudly and clearly. "I don't know how well it will work, I don't know how long it will last...but what I do know right now, is that my friendship with Reed Brennan is something that's worth going back for."

My grandmother got that tone in her voice — the one she'd always used when she was smiling. "Tell me what else you know, Ivy."

I paused. "I know now, why _you're _the one who's guided me through this, grandma. And I also know why you've asked the same thing every time." A degree of shame had come over me as I spoke. "It was one thing for me to be _angry_ over what happened to you...but it was another for me to become obsessive. I let my feelings get out of hand. I let them devour me. I've been living in hate ever since." I thought back to a certain moment, one in which Reed had mentioned that she hadn't personally done anything to me. I recalled how I'd brushed her off — knowing she was right, but assuming things would change just because she was a Billings Girl.

I was wrong about Reed. The girl I'd judged on that day was the same girl who'd come to see me on this one.

"I've been living in hate," I repeated, "and that's the reason you've asked me to recite these relationships. Because hate isn't worth living for — love is."

All of a sudden, I saw a large patch of light within the darkness, shining brightly a short distance away.

"You've finished doing what you were brought here for," my grandmother continued. "You won't need to visit this place again."

Slowly, I began drifting toward the glow. Just before I could touch it, I paused and turned back... "Thank you, grandma. I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, speaking in a tone I specifically recognized — the one she used to use while tucking me in at night.

In the next moment, I felt the very same thing that my grandmother would always end our evenings with: a gentle kiss in the center of my forehead. Closing my eyes, I entered the light...and that was when I felt Reed removing her touch.

Afterwards, I heard her begin walking toward the door. Opening my eyes, I took a few seconds to look her over, took a moment to simply watch my new friend.

Then she swung back around, and I quickly shut my eyes again. Things had changed, and perhaps we both knew it, but I wasn't quite sure how to deal with that in the open just yet, and I wasn't quite ready to try. Judging by the awkwardness with which she'd been speaking, I didn't think that Reed was either. It was a case of hidden hearts. A case of private feelings.

She stayed a little longer, and then I heard her leave.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, tossing a calm stare around the empty room. In time, a tiny grin overtook my lips, and I lowered my gaze to the sheets with a chuckle. Reed and I had some things to sort out, and we'd eventually get to doing that.

Like true friends, I figured it would happen sometime when we were both ready...and I figured it would happen sometime soon.


	3. Purpose

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Ivy**

From an overhead perspective, I imagined it looked like something you'd put in a painting.

I was home now, in bed, curled up on my side in my long shady room. Three tall windows reached up to the ceiling, casting three tall shadows across the honey-colored floor. A seemingly endless amount of rain rolled down the exquisite panes of glass, and every now and then, another burst of lightning would tear through the daylight, throwing a quick flash throughout my personal domain. The shadows of blowing branches and innumerable raindrops decorated the walls, which eventually made me wonder what the mansion looked like from outside.

In time, I figured it was probably akin to what you'd see in one of those little snow globes — just without the snow. For now, anyway.

According to the forecast, things were going to get worse before they got better. I'd been hearing about this storm every now and then — I just didn't really seem to care.

Of course, that kind of feeling wasn't particularly new...I didn't really seem to care about much of anything these days.

The hospital called it a full recovery. I called it a partial one.

Physically, I was the very same person. Emotionally...I had noticed a change.

I'd _lost_ something in the healing process, and it was something I wasn't certain that I could ever get back. The solution lied in finding it again. The problem was that I wasn't sure where to start looking.

Snuggling deeper against my pillow, I closed my eyes and lied still. I was wearing a loose purple nightgown, and my hair was fastened in a thick ponytail. For once, I paid little mind to its current condition.

Several items around my room were lying untouched, having received much less attention than I'd planned on giving them all semester. I didn't care about the jewelry. I didn't care about the earrings. I didn't care about the CD collection, the blu-ray player, the flat screen TV, or even the computer.

And as much as I hated to admit it...at this very moment, I didn't care about the sound that was coming from the phone — even though I had a good idea of who was calling.

Moments later, I heard the familiar click of the answering machine, followed by the sound of my very own voice. I listened closely, listened carefully, noting how bold and driven I'd been when I made the recording — and noting how much quieter I'd become these days.

I'd lost something in the healing process. I'd lost something, but I didn't know what.

Then the recording ended, and the response began.

"...It's me again," said a boy with a sluggish, almost irritated tone.

Josh.

"Listen, I'm sorry I haven't been able to make it over for a few days, but — in case you've forgotten — we're supposed to be at least calling each other on a regular basis. Remember what we said on the day you were released?"

I opened my eyes, realizing the question was rhetorical. After all, the day hadn't come that long ago.

"...Ivy? Are you there? Are you listening?" He waited. And then, he sighed. "Ivy, come on."

I closed my eyes.

"Just pick up the phone and talk to me. Just what is it that you think you've 'lost' exactly? Just what is it that's left you feeling 'empty'?"

If I couldn't answer that question for myself, there was no way I could answer it for Josh.

Another sigh came. "Anyway...I'm here when you need me." He hung up.

My eyes slowly opened, a little damper than they'd been before. It wasn't long until I closed them up again.

I spent the next few minutes in complete silence, trying not to move or even think too much. Then another sound came — a knock at my door. "Come in," I said quietly, almost too low to be heard. Seconds later, I heard someone approaching the bed, but didn't bother to see who it was.

Not long afterward, a soft voice filled the room, the soft voice of my maid Fran. "You haven't finished your dinner."

I hadn't even _started_ it.

"The doctors said you shouldn't miss meals."

"...I know." Two words, short and simple. It was all I really felt like uttering.

With a sigh, she collected the tray of food on my night stand, and, from the sound of things, began making her way toward the door. "I'll be heading home now." I imagined she wanted to reach her house before the storm worsened. "My vacation also begins today." And that meant we wouldn't be seeing each other for a while. That meant I'd be spending a lot of time in this big house alone during winter break.

Unless, of course, I took her up on her previous offer — unless I had her delay the vacation until later. The idea was certainly tempting. Following my recovery, my dad had left town on business again, and my mom was, well...my mom.

Fran paused at the door, then cleared her throat and repeated herself. "The vacation that we discussed..." she spoke gently, compassionately, "it was scheduled to start today." I could hear the implied question in that sentence. She was asking if I wanted her to stay, asking if I wanted any company. It was another case of someone reaching out...and it was another case of me pulling away.

"Have a nice vacation, Fran," I said quietly, remaining still. "Take care of yourself."

After a pause, I heard her speak again, heard a trace of pity in her voice. "Thank you." With that said, she quietly exited. While she was leaving, however, I could hear someone else coming in.

Following a bit of silence, which I assumed included a stare, the latest visitor sat down on the side of my bed, a short distance from my back. "I got a message from Josh," said my mom. "He tells me he can't reach you on your cell."

My voice was slow and quiet. "I haven't been answering it."

"He's also been trying your room phone."

"I haven't been answering that either."

"Why not?"

I didn't say anything.

After a while, I heard my mom state something familiar. "The doctors said this might happen," she paused. "They predicted something like what you're going through right now — they said that it's only normal for recovering victims."

I closed my eyes. The idea of becoming a statistic wasn't very comforting.

"And that's why you should try talking to someone about it," she touched my shoulder. "It can be a professional — or it can be me. You know that, don't you? You know I'm always here for you." Her words trailed off briefly. "I know that I've been busy with work lately..."

I could tell what was coming next: She was about to mention something she called _"our little system."_ It was established when I was younger, and it's still going strong today.

"...But if you need me," she continued, "all you have to do is give me a call, and I'll be right over."

My mom worked in another wing of the mansion. She practically lived over there. It was where she joyfully produced and reviewed several of the latest designs — all while chatting with some of the world's top designers via e-mail and her cell phone.

When I was a little girl, _"our little system"_ required me to make a phone call across the house and leave a message for her myself. If the matter was "important enough," she'd walk over to see me right away. Otherwise, she'd call me back, offer a few comforting words, and leave the rest to my current maid — or my grandmother. Then she'd promise that we'd talk more when we met up at bedtime — providing I even got to see her then.

Her words came again. "You know that I'm available, don't you?" She spoke cautiously, as though she didn't want to upset me. We'd certainly had our share of friction over her "system" through the years, particularly since I'd become a teenager.

"...Right," I said quietly. Deep down, part of me resented how she'd become so readily "available" _after_ I'd been sent to a hospital. Right now, however, I just didn't feel like bringing that resentment to the surface.

She paused again. "Really, Ivy...tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're not talking to your boyfriend. You're hardly eating. And when I try to make more time for the two of us — something you've always claimed I don't do enough of — all you respond with is, 'right.' It's clear that something's bothering you." She rubbed my shoulder. "The doctors talked about this. You're suffering from post-traumatic—"

"Mom, I'm not suffering from post-traumatic anything, all right?" I pulled away from her touch, remaining in my curled-up state as I faced elsewhere. "Remember I told you that during the recovery, I felt connected to grandma somehow?"

"I remember," she said softly.

There was a pause before I could continue. It took a while before I could figure out how to phrase what I had to say next. "It felt like she was telling me that I needed to make some changes when I 'came back.' And I tried doing that, I really did.

"The thing is, it seems like I lost something in the process. And because of that, I'm beginning to feel kind of..._empty_, inside."

She was quiet for a moment. "Why?"

I pulled my arms closer to my chest, and lowered my head toward them. "I don't know. That's what I've been trying to figure out. Until I do, I can't talk to Josh, I can't talk to a professional...and I don't really feel like I can talk to you."

More silence filled the room.

"Mom, I'll be okay," I finally said. "Just go back to your work. We both know you want to. It's all right." I paused. "...I'll be okay."

After a while, I felt her stroking my hair softly. Then she finally rose, and began walking toward the door. "You know it's just the two of us here, right? Fran's on vacation," she said. "If you need anything, or need to talk about anything—"

"I'll call you."

She quietly left. Afterwards, I snuggled up against the bed, closed my eyes, and listened to the raindrops fall.

* * *

Around one hour later, I was awakened by the sound of the phone ringing yet again. I didn't reach for it, because I didn't want to talk to anyone. All I wanted to do was remain still, close my eyes, and prepare to go back to sleep.

The familiar click of the machine arrived, followed by the familiar girl in the recording.

And then, after the instructions, the quip, and finally, the beep...I heard the last thing I could've possibly expected to.

"Ivy? Are you there?"

My eyes quickly opened. The voice on the other end was Reed's.

Something was happening. Something was wrong. Her tone was weak, panicked, and shaky.

"Ivy...if you're there..."

As she spoke, I heard a lot of static, a lot of noise, and a lot of rain.

"...Need your help. I'm outside." The static came again. "...Outsi—" She began to cough.

I quickly picked up the phone. "Reed?"

There was no response. A particularly loud clap of thunder — one of the loudest I'd heard in a while — got me to glance out a window. And that was when I saw it. The rain was coming down _much_ harder now than it had been before. I'd rarely seen such a heavy downpour. Flashes of lightning filled the sky, all while the loud beats against my windows sounded off throughout the room.

Quickly, I sat up and tried again. "Reed? Reed, where are you?"

There was no response.

I began speaking louder into the receiver. "Reed, are you all right?"

Nothing.

Hanging up, I flung the covers aside and pulled myself out of bed. The drowsiness was jolted away by the coolness of the floor against my bare skin. After collecting my cell phone, I headed to the door, trying to piece together everything that I'd heard. Reed was clearly outside, but where? While hurrying down the steps, I began dialing her number in hopes of finding out.

Entering the main lobby of my home, I headed toward the front door while her phone rang, curious as to what I could spot while peeking through the hole. It was then that I noticed the sound of a nearby ring tone...one that was sounding off in accordance with the very ringing in my ear.

My eyebrows lowered, my lips parted. Reaching out, I quickly unlocked the door and opened it. Right there at my feet, I found Reed — cuddled in the doorway with her back pressed to one side, and the tips of her shoes pressed to the other — donned in a mere sweater and thin black pants. She was soaked from head to toe, and constantly fidgeting, looking up at me with half-open eyes.

* * *

Two hours later, I felt her fidget again. This time she did it softly, gently.

Night had fallen, and a faint orange glow now filled my room. Reed was under the covers, and I was over them, staring down at my crossed legs while I held her tightly in my arms. She was now wearing a set of my pajamas, and the top of her dried head was tucked just under my chin.

Her eyes began to open, and she murmured a little.

Looking elsewhere again, I slowly spoke up. "Do you feel all right?"

"I..." She paused, probably letting everything sink in. "I'm...how did I...get...?"

"Hmph," I let out a faint chuckle, "well, you came upstairs and then sort of just...collapsed on my floor. Got water everywhere."

"...Heh...sorry about that," she said weakly.

Letting her go, I slowly stood and looked her over, checking her status with my inquiring eyes. Then, licking my lips, I began walking to the other side of the bed, toward the night stand. I couldn't explain it, but it almost felt like something was compelling me to do what I was presently doing — something that reminded me of my grandmother.

"And..." the usual firmness of her voice was returning now, "...and you were cuddling me?"

"Well don't go getting any ideas," I said with a tilted head and raised eyebrows, "I only did it to keep you warm."

Reed chuckled, and I briefly looked away with a small grin of my own. "Oh, man," she moaned, sitting up and rubbing the bottoms of her hands against her eyes briefly.

While she took a moment to look the pajamas over, I picked up a square, silver tray. "What were you doing out there?"

"I was out for the day, getting ready for break, then I got caught in the storm on my way back to campus. This was the closest place I could turn to, so I tried calling you, and...and..." Reed looked down at the tray as I placed it over her lap, carefully positioning its legs around hers. Afterwards, I removed the cover from the plate, revealing a steaming bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. "Th-Thank you," she said, glancing up at me.

I felt myself beginning to blush, and quickly diverted attention. "How did you even get my home number?"

A hint of awkwardness crossed her face. "I asked Josh for it a few days ago. You weren't answering your cell, so..." She briefly trailed off. "I hadn't tried calling before, because he said that you weren't answering this phone either."

I tipped my head, quietly looking at the floor.

Though I'd lowered my gaze, I could tell that Reed had begun watching me closely, staring with those deep, curious eyes of hers. "Everything all right?"

I glanced her way, then turned elsewhere. "Fine."

Reed just stared.

Pulling my hands behind my back, I intertwined my fingers. "You should probably eat that before it gets cold. I'm not in the mood to run down to the microwave again."

Lifting her spoon, she kept her eyes on me while testing the soup, slowly taking in her first swallow. It was clear that she was still interested in having her question answered.

With a sigh, I took a step forth, paused...then slowly walked over to the bed, sitting down on the foot of it. Looking toward my lap, I watched my fingers for a moment. "It's just that...ever since you got here I've been..." I slowly shook my head. "I think I might have figured it out," I mumbled to myself.

"Figured what out?"

"This is going to sound weird, but when I was recovering in that hospital, it felt like I briefly reconnected with my grandmother."

Reed paused before speaking. "No...no, that doesn't sound weird. That doesn't sound weird at all."

I kept my back to her, feeling my cheeks going red again. "She asked me a question: Who in your life is worth going back for? What relationships, what friendships, ultimately matter the most?" My words began coming slower. "And so..." I briefly bit my lower lip. "Anyway...I eventually realized that there was a deeper meaning behind all of that. I realized that she was telling me to let go of the hatred I'd felt."

Reed was quiet, and I could tell that I'd definitely piqued her interest. "...So..." she spoke cautiously, "have you succeeded in doing that? _Have_ you let go of the hatred?"

I watched the floor again. "I've been getting there," I said simply. "I knew it wouldn't happen over night...but I _have_ been getting there."

She kept listening.

"But the thing about _that_..." I glanced at a mirror, catching sight of one of my serious eyes, "is that it left me feeling like I'd lost something. It left me feeling _empty_."

Reed's tone was just as I'd expect. "Empty?"

I lowered an eyebrow. "I think I finally understand it now," my head began to slowly nod. "For quite a while, my drive in life, my _passion_, revolved around my crusade to bring down Billings.

"When I walked away from that...I was left feeling empty because a part of me started to long for what I'd lost: A sense of _purpose_."

We both became quiet for a while after I said that. In time, I finally turned around and faced her, finding that Reed's eyes were half-curious, half-understanding as she watched me.

Eventually, she broke the silence with a fair question: "Ivy, why seek purpose when you can have peace?"

I slowly rolled onto my stomach, spread out on the edge of the bed while propping my chin up in my hands. "I've always been an achiever, Reed. It's in my blood," I eyed the night stand. "When I was younger, I thought I was never good enough to hold my mom's attention, so I spent all my time thinking of ways to win it." I began gliding my legs above my back. "The point is, I can't _not _have a purpose — not right now, anyway..."

Reed lowered her gaze to the tray.

"All I can do, for my grandmother's sake — and more importantly, for my own — is try to have a better purpose than I had before."

She looked back up at me.

And then, I began reviewing what had _brought_ me to this realization to begin with.

While doing so, my mind was drawn to the events of the past two hours. I recalled the sense of worry I'd felt upon finding Reed on my doorstep. I reviewed the sense of relief I'd felt upon helping her heal. I examined the sense of pleasantness I'd felt upon cooking her dinner. And finally, I remembered the sense of pride I'd felt upon warming her, comforting her, and seeing her awaken.

There had been something interesting about watching her recovery — about knowing that _I'd_ been responsible for it, that I'd brought it about. The whole thing actually felt kind of...nice?

Staring calmly at Reed, I pulled a strand of my ponytail back behind my right ear. "And I believe I know what that purpose should be," I said. "For now, I think I'll just try and help other people out a little whenever I can."

Then something strange happened: Reed began smiling at me. "Well then," she said, speaking rather warmly, "let me just say that I'm deeply honored, and deeply grateful, to have been the first."

Licking my lips, I made an awkward face and slowly glanced away. "Sure," I shrugged.

It looked like we were facing those private feelings again. Would I ever know why they left me so tense? Given all that had happened in the hospital, you'd think that I wouldn't feel so uneasy about my growing friendship with Reed. For whatever reason, though, I still did. Why, exactly, I wasn't certain, but among the things I _was _certain of were the following: It was nice to know that someone had been the catalyst for this decision. It was nice to know that someone I'd explained this to understood. And it was nice to know that someone already believed in my new purpose.

In all of those cases, that "someone" happened to be Reed Brennan.

But with that thought in mind, I also knew — once again — that this "growing friendship" thing would simply require time.

Then I looked out the window, and realized that _time_ would be on our side. "Whoa..."

Reed caught my stare, and glanced over her shoulder. It was then that her expression began to resemble mine. She set the tray back on the night stand. Moments later I crawled right beside her, and we both sat up on our knees while clinging to the bedpost. Turning toward each other, we briefly locked eyes, then directed our attention to the window again.

Amidst all that had happened, we'd failed to notice that the rain had stopped. In its place, just as the forecast had predicted, was a heavy snowfall that was coming down almost as strongly.

Staring outward, I felt a few slow words leaving my mouth. "Good thing it's the beginning of winter break."

Reed began to nod, managing only a simple mutter. "Um, huh..."

"...Because it appears that you're going to be here for a while."


	4. Discoveries

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Reed**

_I can see it now. _

_All too clearly._

_It was a bright spring day, and my class was on the playground. We'd been told to pair up and bunch into thick brown sacks. Far across the field, I saw what appeared to be the finish line...and that was when I began to smile, knowing that this was one race I could win. _

_Three seconds later, I'd begun looking for a partner. Three minutes later...I was doing the very same thing._

_As usual, barely anyone else appeared to be having this problem. The other kids got welcome smiles, fast high-fives. I got cold glances, turned heads._

_I was quite young at that stage, but I'd already learned a poignant lesson in life: No one wants to play with the "smart girl."_

_Getting high marks and gold stars had brought me much pride on a scholarly level...but much isolation on a personal one. After a while, the teachers intervened and paired me up with someone _—_ someone who did a fair amount of whining, and a fair amount of complaining._

Then a grown-up said "Go!" — and the hopping commenced. Halfway toward the finish line, the girl at my side started making a real effort. It was at this point that we'd pulled ahead of the crowd, and realized we had a good chance of winning. We were almost there, almost at our goal...when suddenly I tripped, and stumbled to the ground. Naturally, she fell right along with me.

_Moments later, the contest ended, and the winners were announced. As my partner and I prepared to stand, we saw several of our classmates — kids who hadn't participated in the race — running over to lend their aid. We both reached out our hands...but only one of us was helped up._

_Seconds afterward, the small crowd walked away while chatting with my partner, and I was left lying there — still, silent...and alone._

* * *

Then the vision ended.

Slowly, I opened my eyes — and closed my thoughts. I tried very hard to push the memory away, and _wished_ very hard that it would stop invading my dreams.

My surroundings began to sink in.

I was lying still, in a bed, curled up on my side in a long shady room. Three tall windows reached up to the ceiling, casting three tall shadows across the honey-colored floor. A seemingly endless amount of snow fell beside the exquisite panes of glass, and every few seconds, I saw the shadow of a swaying branch flutter across the wall.

It all came back to me now. The storm. The mansion.

With a long, quiet sigh, I closed my eyes again, then opened them and sat myself up. Though my arrangements were comfortable, I technically wasn't in an actual bed after all — just a couple of matresses that I and my companion had collected and stacked. She didn't have a guest bed in her room, because apparently, she didn't have many visitors over.

Pulling aside the covers, I took a moment to glance at the silk pajamas she'd provided me with once again. Then I picked myself up, turned around, and had a long look at the morning sky.

Moments later, I took a glance at the door, and made my way out of the room and down a long and beautiful stairway. On more than one occasion, I found myself pausing to stare as I walked through the mansion. It hadn't taken long for me to stop being _impressed_, and to start being amazed. As I glanced at all of her belongings, a certain truth began to sink in: Anything that we both had, Ivy's was better.

I glimpsed an incredibly complex stereo system, so shiny and unfamiliar that I imagined it wasn't even in stores yet. I felt an unbelievably plush carpet, so soft and fuzzy that I looked back to see if I was leaving prints. And I saw an amazingly _big_, "big-screen TV," so notably large that I couldn't help wondering why anyone would even need such a thing.

Then I recalled something else: For people in Ivy's circle, matters such as these had nothing to do with _need_, and everything to do with _want_. Girls like her lived a life of luxury, a life of beauty...and the kind of life that I'd always envied.

...Hadn't I?

After a moment's pause, the answer to my query slowly sunk in. I thought about the first time I'd heard of Easton, the first time I'd seen the Billings Girls. On both of those occasions, desire and envy had filled me to the brim.

Indeed, I _was_ drawn to people like Ivy, and I _was_ drawn to places like this. For some reason, the world of privilege held an undeniable allure. It had never really been a question of _what_ I wanted...

It was just a question of why I wanted it.

Then I saw the open doorway, saw the hands at the kitchen table. The rest of her body was obscured by the wall. Moving closer, I took a peek inside, prompting her to glance up from the book. "Hey..." I offered quietly.

"Hey," said Ivy. She was still in the purple nightgown, but her hair was now down and partly fastened back with a clip. "All yours," she said, motioning to the plate across from hers.

"Thanks," I replied, slowly taking a seat. To my surprise, steam was rising from the food. "Wow," I said under my breath, "still warm..."

Her eyes were on the book. "I know what time you wake up. I certainly heard you leave the dorm often enough."

A soft chuckle escaped my lips. Very quickly, I began thinking back to what she'd said last night, I recalled what her current purpose in life was. "You really do dedicate yourself — when you plan on carrying something through, I mean."

She held her serious eyes on the pages. "Absolutely."

While chewing, I watched her for a moment. Ivy Slade was one of the most committed people I'd ever known. Given the circumstances, it could either be her most admirable trait...or her biggest vice. While eyeing her closely, I found myself hoping that she could keep that passion on its present course, that she could keep it focused on something good.

I hoped so for her family's sake, for Billings', and above all, for her own.

* * *

"What's so funny?" Her tone was quiet and composed, but I saw the slightest hint of a smile appearing. At the same time, she lifted the book, as though to hide her expression.

"Nothing," I said after another soft chuckle. "It's just...believe it or not, I sort of imagined this once. I figured something like this could happen sometime — I just didn't think that it'd be so soon."

Ivy and I were on a couch now, one of the widest and most comfortable I'd ever encountered. She was lying back and running her eyes across the page, while I was sitting cross-legged and applying a neon-green polish to her toenails. Silence was the only reply I received, and upon looking up, I saw a calm-faced reader — one who was so quiet and so placid that she reminded me a little too much of the stoic girl I'd seen at the beginning of the year.

Lowering my gaze, I suddenly became aware of a silver lining: In all the silence, I'd finally realized how to say something I'd been wanting to since last night. "I've tried calling, you know..."

She simply kept her eyes on the book.

I briefly glanced upward. "Since you got out of the hospital, I mean..."

Ivy remained quiet.

I could feel my skin tingling, threatening to turn a stark shade of red. How many hints did I need to drop? How many implied questions was it going to take? Would she really make me come right out and ask how she was doing? Furthermore, would she really make me acknowledge — right out in the open — that the only reason she'd been victimized was because Sabine had been after _me_? Couldn't she tell I was feeling guilty? Couldn't she see I was trying to show it?

After a while, I briefly closed my eyes, then licked my lips for a second. I realized that there was no easy way to go about this, which was why I needed to stop looking for one. "Listen..." I paused, lifting my gaze again, "I'm sorry, about...you know. I'm sorry that my business with Sabine — and Ariana — came to hurt you."

Ivy held her eyes on the page a moment...then lowered the book, looking away.

For a while, I didn't say anything, and neither did she. I imagined that we'd both known we could only put this moment off for so long.

"She fired the shot...not you." There was a clear conflict in her tone. It didn't entirely sound like she was saying, _"I don't resent you," _but it did sound like she was saying, _"I absolve you." _Moments later, Ivy turned her gaze to mine, as though to confirm her statement.

With a look of awkwardness, which gave way to a slightly appreciative grin, I quietly spoke up. "Thank you."

She nodded. "Thank _you_, too."

We both returned our eyes to their previous targets. After a bit more silence, I became curious about something. "So, why _haven't_ you been answering the phone?"

"I told you. For a little while I was left feeling empty, and I didn't know why."

"I know, but, why didn't you want to talk to anyone about it. If not me, or...Josh...then why not anyone else?"

"No one else has been calling." She said it bluntly, unabashedly.

A brief pause came over me after I heard that. "Why not?" I muttered. And that was when I began to wonder something else. Looking upward, I stared at her closely, thinking about the few girls I'd seen her with while talking to Detective Hauer. "Why don't you have real friends? Actual friends?"

There was a slight delay in her response, a slight hint of doubt in her tone. "I do have friends."

"No, you have admirers." I could tell that most of the girls she hung out with — or rather, the girls who hung around her — were more interested in Ivy's status than in Ivy herself. I imagined that she mainly spent time with them when she was feeling lonely.

After a while, she spoke up again, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the page. "Why don't you tell me what real friendship is, Reed."

Great. And here we go again with the condescending talk. "You..." I paused. "You don't have to get defensive."

"I'm not. Seriously, give me your opinion of a real friendship. Tell me what you think it's founded on."

A certain word came to mind, and I shrugged as I said it — speaking as though I could tell there was something she _wanted_ to hear. "Trust?" Immediately afterwards, my eyes began wandering elsewhere, and it slowly dawned on me that I'd answered my own question.

"...I think you know how that worked out for me last time."

I tried pushing the thoughts of Cheyenne from my mind, ashamed that I'd unwittingly brought her up. I could tell that Ivy didn't like saying what she did, and didn't like thinking about it.

"The reason I haven't made many 'real' friends since coming back to Easton, is because it isn't a very trustworthy place."

"All right..." I said. Fair enough. "But to me, it seems like you're hardly willing to even give anyone the _opportunity_."

She glanced up. "What opportunity?"

"To _earn_ your trust."

Her gaze fell to her lap. "That's not true."

"Really?" I lifted my eyebrows. "Stop me if you're heard this story: One girl walks up to the other's table. She extends a friendly greeting. The girl at the table rejects it. Then—"

"Let's just say I've been less willing to give the opportunity to certain people than others." She paused, running her eyes over me. "Or at least, that was the case back then."

"So why did I fall into the category of those you were 'less willing' to give the opportunity to?"

She looked away. "You know why."

I stared her over. "Because I was a Billings Girl?"

After a pause, as though she was confirming something to herself, Ivy nodded. "That was part of it."

Immediately, I became curious as to what the other part was. "What do you mean?"

She eyed me again. "Believe it or not, I learned a little about you before we met."

Oh, I believed it; her statement about Thomas had confirmed that. But wait...was she trying to tell me that she'd learned _more_? I lowered my eyebrows, letting the curiosity show in plain sight.

"When you approached the table that day, my guard automatically went up. I couldn't help being suspicious...I couldn't help wondering if you'd been drawn to me for superficial reasons — the same as my 'admirers' are."

The next word was slow to leave my mouth. "Why?" I couldn't sound entirely perplexed...because unfortunately, I wasn't.

"I found out."

My cheeks were warming up. It wasn't fun being on the receiving end of that statement, especially when you weren't sure what the other person meant.

"With you being a new Billings Girl," she nodded, "I found out a thing or two. I came to realize just how badly you wanted to get into Billings." She went quiet a moment, simply watching me closely. "That sort of thing means a lot to you, doesn't it?" A hint of confirmation had crept into her tone, the sneaky kind that suggests a question isn't really a question.

"What sort of thing?" I tried my best to sound like I didn't know what she was referring to.

"The glitz. The glamour. The privileged life that comes with being a Billings Girl. The posh, attractive people you meet."

"I..."

"You like being around people like that, don't you?"

I simply went quiet.

"So that goes back to what I was saying," she continued. "What prompted you to even approach _me_ in the first place? What was the first thing on your mind?"

Very quickly, I began reviewing possible answers. Of course, I could simply state a certain truth — that I'd wanted to ask her about Taylor...but actually, that wasn't the first thing on my mind when I considered approaching Ivy that day, it was the second. Or third.

After another brief silence, my head sagged. Much as I didn't like to acknowledge this...it seemed she had a point. After a few seconds I glanced up again.

It was Ivy, now, who slowly averted her gaze, then lifted an eyebrow. "Are looks really that important to you? Is glamour really that alluring?"

It's tempting to automatically say "no" when you're accused of something personal, but in some cases, it's also hard to.

"Are you instantly drawn to attractive people, attractive places?" She ran her eyes over me a second. "Is that what initially got you interested in Josh?"

A quick chill stirred my spine. "No." I paused. I waited. "...Maybe."

"Is that why you _like_ him?"

"No," I repeated, feeling that chill again. Upon settling down a few seconds later, I took a short breath, shifted a little on the couch, focused on what I had to say...and knew that I was saying it with certainty. "I may have partly been drawn to him for superficial reasons...but no more than _normal _in that case." Meaning it was unrelated to what Ivy was describing. "And as for why I like him, it has little to do with who he is on the outside, and a lot to do with who he is within."

Ivy licked her lips, giving me a soft, almost cautious look. I could tell she believed what I'd said.

"What drew _you_ to him?"

Her eyebrows flinched, and the cautiousness on her face stirred a little. I hadn't meant to, but I'd struck a sensitive spot.

There was something I wanted to know, but I suddenly lowered my voice, choosing to tread lightly. "Did it have to do with your _purpose _at the time?" A bit of awkwardness crossed my face. "The vendetta?"

"No." She paused. She waited. And then, she said something familiar. "...Maybe."

I stared.

"Look, you may not believe it, but I also like Josh for who he is inside."

I shrugged. "Actually..." a slight grin crossed my face, "I do believe it." I nodded. "It certainly isn't the hardest thing to believe."

Ivy lowered her gaze a few seconds, then looked back up at me. "No...I guess it isn't."

We eyed each other warmly for a moment. Warmly, yet regretfully.

It wasn't long afterwards that her eyes returned to the book. My eyes returned to the polish.

Silence filled the room for a little while.

"On the topic of why I don't have 'actual' friends," she spoke up again, "I could ask the same thing about you."

I locked my eyes onto her. "Pardon?"

She closed the book suddenly, and began looking me over again. "So here's what I don't get: You already had a lot going for you, so why was getting into Billings so important? Why is posh glamour so important?"

"I..." Wait. Was there a compliment in all that? Another one? "I have a lot going for me?"

"Please. Save the modesty act. We both know what you've accomplished academically. We both know what you've accomplished _athletically_." She watched me, running her fingers along the book's cover. I could tell she'd begun to recall the same things she'd asked before. "Why did getting into some 'elite sisterhood' matter so much to you?" Her eyes examined mine, as though searching for the answer. "It couldn't have been a matter of low self-esteem, because you're not exactly the type who has reasons for that."

I chuckled. "Why, thank you, Dr. Slade."

She didn't appear to be in a joking mood. After a few moments, Ivy looked at me plainly...then shrugged and lifted an eyebrow. Her expression told the story: She'd confided in me last night, so wasn't it _my_ turn now?

I sighed, and looked back down. We both returned our attention elsewhere.

On a few occasions in the long silence that followed, I could feel her curious gaze again, heating up my face like sunlight. Eventually, I simply paused in my work, thinking deeply on what I was about to say. Once I was finally sure that all ten of her toes hadn't gone anywhere, I slowly looked away and began to mumble something. "It has to do with exactly what you said — the 'sisterhood' aspect."

She simply listened.

"When I was a little girl...I didn't have very many friends." I had to pause, letting the deep breath come and go. "I was something of an overachiever in school. I was a top student in most of my classes, and the other kids resented me for that." I glanced up, just long enough to see that Ivy's curious eyes were still on me. "I pretty much grew up isolated, and I had a rather mundane, dull childhood because of it." At least, it was dull _outside_ of my house. Naturally, things had been a bit more memorable within my family, but not in a very pleasant way.

Ivy held her lips closed for a moment, making a slight nod as she looked me over. "I grew up an overachiever too."

I recalled what she'd mentioned about her mother.

"And I grew up alone most of the time as well." Then she paused, watching me closely. "To an _extent_, it sounds like we each had an isolated, mundane upbringing. The reasons were simply different."

My lips parted as I watched Ivy.

"But the _results_ were different as well," she confirmed. "Fact is, I never cared _as much_ as you about getting into Billings. I was never as determined as you were to become a Billings Girl."

"Because you're already a match for them glamour-wise."

"No, because I simply didn't feel the same _desire_ that you did — the desire to surround myself with people of that variety. My closest friend was Cheyenne Martin, and I knew her long before she got into Billings."

I went quiet.

"...This isn't an attack on your choices, Reed. You can associate yourself with whoever you want to. I'm not exactly criticizing it, I'm simply wondering about it.

"You're saying you grew up isolated. Fine. Perfectly understandable that you'd eventually want friends. It's the _kind_ you wanted that we're discussing. You didn't just want girls, you wanted _Billings _Girls. And before that, you didn't just want an academy, you wanted _Easton _Academy." She paused a few seconds. "Why is it that you want to surround yourself with the 'very best'?"

My arms were now crossed, and I was looking down at them, quietly leaning back and forth. "That's not entirely true. When I was in Billings...I had non-Billings friends too."

"...But you made sure that they were complemented by your 'sisters,' didn't you? You made sure that there was always a little glamour in your life."

I waved the statement off. "I may have initially been _drawn_ to the Billings Girls for superficial reasons, but I've grown to _appreciate_ them for who they are inside. They're all true friends of mine now."

"Is that so?" Ivy lifted her eyebrows a second. "If I recall correctly, two of those 'true' friends turned on you. One wasn't such a 'true' friend after all."

Once again, I became quiet.

"And how long will it be until another of those 'true' friends becomes a true enemy?"

I didn't answer that. I didn't want to.

She opened up her book again, lowering her eyes to the page. "It goes without saying that you and I haven't always been close..."

I simply listened.

"But I _can _say this much about our relationship: You've never had to worry about fronts. You've never had to worry about honesty. With me, what you see is what you get."

I remained silent and still for a while after hearing that. In time, a tiny grin crossed my face, and I slowly nodded to myself. Not long afterwards, I thought of someone else who I could apply the same statement to...thought of all the many times that it had been true of her.

And it was around then that I began to feel the first trace of dampness in my eyes.

* * *

The snow continued to fall, and I was watching it from a chair now. Ivy was standing right behind me, doing a variety of work on my hair.

"Reed," she broke the silence, "...are you crying?"

It would've been easy to simply say "no," but pointless when she could just take a peek and see for herself. "...I'm okay."

She was quiet a moment. "What's the matter?"

I brushed a hand across my face. "Just thinking about someone...that's all." I watched the window for a while before speaking again. "My mom has these problems. She's had them her whole life. They've made her a recurring addict at times."

Ivy's hands became gentler.

I sniffed. "And when I look for the root of those problems...I think about some of the stories I've heard — stories about her upbringing. I think about the people she grew up with, the places she grew up in."

Ivy stayed completely quiet.

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, opened them, and finally said something I didn't want to say. "You were right about what you said before. I surround myself with glamourous places, 'successful' people." A tear rolled down my cheek as I confirmed a certain truth. "I do that because I believe it's the way to avoid following my mom's path. I'm not ashamed of her, I just don't want her issues to become my own."

Once again, silence filled the room for a while.

"You know," said Ivy, "you gave me a certain label earlier — 'Dr. Slade' — suggesting that I was some sort of therapist or something.

"I'm not. I can't give you a professional perspective, but I can give you a personal one: A posh lifestyle has nothing to do with _need_, and everything to do with _want_."

I lifted an eyebrow.

"That's why you're wrong if you think you _need_ to surround yourself with 'glamourous places,' and 'successful people,' in order to be on the right path.

"If you want to find your way, you don't need to approach others, you just need to take a long hard look at _yourself_."

Everything seemed to stop as I listened closely.

"It's like I said earlier, you've got a lot going for you, Reed — academically, athletically — and if you keep it up..." she paused, her words trailing off, "...then that's all you're really going to need, in order to avoid making your life a reoccurrence of someone else's."

I'd noticed something in Ivy's voice. For a second, it sounded as though she was surprising herself by saying what she had. And if _she_ wasn't surprised by it, I certainly was. "Th-Thanks..." I said with stunned eyes.

She cleared her throat suddenly. "Sure...whatever." She said it casually, quietly, as though she was trying to make me forget, as though she was trying to take those private feelings and make them hidden once more.

"So anyway, if you want to be a Billings Girl again, that's one thing — just don't think that it's what you need to do."

I lowered my gaze to my lap. "I'll keep that in mind." Though I was surprised to feel it, a slight grin arrived seconds later. "You know, I said something _else_ earlier too."

"And what was that?"

"I said that I may have been drawn to certain people for superficial reasons, but I'd grown to appreciate them for who they'd revealed themselves to be inside."

"...Mm, hm," she said innocently.

A full smile crossed my face. "I think I may have found someone else to add to that list now."

Ivy's hands paused in my hair...then slowly continued.

* * *

_I can see it now. _

_All too clearly._

_It was a bright spring day, and my class was on the playground._

_The teams were gathered, and the race was begun. _

_Toward the finish line, I suddenly tripped, and I suddenly fell._

_Before I knew it, the race was over, and the kids came running toward me and my partner._

_Once again, we both reached out our hands, and once again, only one of us was helped up. Afterwards, my partner walked away with the others, while I was left lying there — still, silent...and alone._

* * *

Then the vision ended — but a lot less calmly this time.

I awakened quickly, realizing I'd fallen from the couch to the floor. Just above my moan, I heard someone approaching. Looking upward, I saw a hand reaching down toward me.

Ivy's hand.

"You okay?"

I watched her for a moment, staring into her eyes. Then, I slowly reached out. "Yeah," I said softly, taking her hand in my own. "I think I'm just fine." I smiled as she gently helped me up.


	5. Signs

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Ivy**

_It always begins the same — with a hazy image of a sparkling river. Little specks of sunlight gleamed against the water, reaching toward me as I gazed outward. My back was turned to the park._

_The day had been divided into two parts: good and bad. The latter appeared to start at this point._

_As I continued to stare, a familiar voice suddenly called from behind. The voice of my closest friend._

_"Ivy! Come on, we're taking a picture."_

_Slowly, I turned and headed back into the park — the area that I, Cheyenne, and many others had been cleaning. Prior to arrival, Cheyenne had suggested that we partner up with Noelle Lange and Ariana Osgood, insisting that I'd like them if I simply got to know them. _

_When the day began, I'd been intent on proving her wrong. At this point, however, I was looking into both girls' eyes, exchanging warm smiles...and realizing that this was one battle I'd wound up losing. _

_Of course, I tried keeping this hidden at first. As usual, though, Cheyenne could sense my mood. From the corner of my eye, I could tell she was staring, smiling, watching me blush. As I directed a shy grin toward the ground, she eventually forced eye contact, crossed her arms, and gave me a teasing look — as if to say, "See? I told you so."_

_I hated it when she was right, and I let her know by making a wide, mock smile of my own. Then we both giggled, drawing attention from the other two. Noelle and Ariana were clearly confused by our silent language, our routine gestures. However, I could tell that this was only temporary: Before long, I'd surely have a similar chemistry with them. _

_Moments later, all four of us gathered. The photographer asked if we were ready, then began counting down from 3. _

_As I cozied up beside the group — liking the sound of that new label — I became absolutely sure of something: This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. With that thought in mind, I held my gaze forward, and smiled at the camera._

_...Then a funny thing happened. The camera malfunctioned. The photo wouldn't snap._

_One minute later, we smiled again, posed again — and oddly enough, wound up being troubled by the very same problem. The photographer flashed us an apologetic grin, then began fiddling with the device once more. _

_Something happened while we were waiting. It was hard to spot — you had to look very closely — but as I glanced at the other girls' faces, I could tell that some of the happy smiles had been replaced by curious ones. Some of the enthusiasm had been replaced by doubt. Though I couldn't see my own grin at the time, I knew I was wearing the very same expression. _

_It was almost as though the moment was trying to tell us something. We each sensed it. We each felt it._

_Several minutes later, the camera finally worked, and the photo came spilling out. Gathering around, we all took a peek at it, then began exchanging smiles and playful comments again. _

_For the sake of pleasantries, we were trying to regain our previous mood. In reality, however...I think we each knew that despite its appearance, the picture wasn't quite as pretty as it looked._

* * *

So here we go again. Same mansion, different day.

Being confined just wasn't my style.

Donned in a blue nightgown, I walked down the hallway, still having to move a tad slowly for the time being. I let out a soft yawn, and began to stretch a little...when everything suddenly stopped. My steps came to a halt, my arms paused in the air, my jaw dropped a bit, and my eyes began to widen. In the span of an instant, everything had become irrelevant — except for the sight I'd found in the living room.

With her back turned, Reed was staring at a collection of framed photos, carefully examining my uncles, my aunts, my grandmother, and my parents.

In the heat of a moment, my first instinct is usually the one I follow. Right now, that instinct was telling me to charge in there and make some noise.

About half a minute later, however, I still hadn't moved...and I still hadn't spoken.

I probably should have been bothered. I probably should have been irked. And had this happened a few months ago, I likely _would_ have been.

Now, though, I didn't seem to be feeling that way. I couldn't explain why that was...or maybe, I simply wasn't ready to.

In any case, one thing was for certain: While looking on, I gradually became less interested in what was going through _my_ head, and more interested in what was going through hers.

Stepping closer, I glimpsed the side of Reed's face, seeing her calm gaze, her constant stare. Why was this girl so fascinated by my relatives? And did that mean that she was fascinated by me?

Suddenly, her eyes switched targets. Instead of watching my family, she spotted a copy of the photo I'd kept in Pemberly — the picture of myself, Cheyenne, Ariana, and Noelle.

A moment later I walked farther into the room, making just enough noise to let her know I was present.

Swinging her head toward me, she nervously gritted her teeth, then began glancing back and forth. "Um, hi..." she uttered, using her typical mixture of tense and innocent.

"Hi."

Reed slid her hands in and out of the pajama pockets. "You..." she nodded with a grin, "you have a nice family."

My face twisted into a nervous frown. So she wanted to get personal now.

Of course, we'd actually gotten personal before — but just because she'd been ready to talk about _her_ family, didn't quite mean I was always ready to talk about mine.

I needed a diversion. Something completely random. "You know..." I plopped down in a chair, "that picture of me and your 'friends'..." I said the last part with maybe a little too much attitude, "it actually took quite a few tries before we could get the camera to work."

Reed lifted her eyebrows a second, then glanced back at the photo. "Really?"

My gaze wandered off. "Almost felt like the thing was resisting us somehow." I quieted a moment. The memory began to gain more of my attention. "Looking back on that now, I kind of view it as a sign."

Her head turned back toward me. "A sign of what?" I could tell it wasn't really an honest question; she was far too smart for that.

Slowly, I locked eyes with her again. "Of something that wasn't meant to be."

After she'd watched the floor in silence for a while, she eventually walked over and sat just a few feet across from where I was. A small coffee table divided us. For a few seconds, Reed rested her hands in her lap, interlocked her fingers, and stared at each as though she'd never seen them before. I had the hardest time trying to figure out what exactly she was about to say. Then she glanced up, looked me in the eye, and let the words roll off her tongue. "I have a proposal."

I crossed my fingers, braced myself, and hoped that this would have nothing to do with Billings...

"Maybe now that you're no longer an _enemy_ of Billings..."

...But then, what fun would that be?

"Perhaps you could reconsider building a _friendship_ with the other girls."

I scoffed — and rolled my eyes.

"No seriously. Seriously. Come on," she leaned forward with a hopeful tone, a faint smile, "all you'd have to do is let them know that things have changed. I could help with that part if you want. Afterwards, maybe you could...I don't know...present a peace offering of some sort."

"A peace offering?" I lifted an eyebrow. "You mean like a gift? A token?"

"An ice-breaker."

I simply went quiet, staring at her a moment.

"What? What did I say?"

"That's the thing about starting up a 'friendship' with the Billings Girls, isn't it? There _always_ has to be an ice-breaker. There always has to be a _condition_."

Reed seemed taken aback for a second...and I was left wondering why. Could she honestly deny what I'd just said? Please.

Her voice got quieter suddenly. "I'm not saying that there 'has' to be a stipulation—"

"Well, if _you're_ not saying it, _they_ will. You and I both know that there's always a string attached. No one gets to be 'friends' with them without paying a price."

"Even if that's true, what I'm saying is that _you_ can set the price this time. You can extend a friendly gesture in advance. That's what a peace offering is."

I briefly glanced just over Reed's shoulder, her face becoming a slight blur as I eyed the familiar photograph. "One good thing I can still say about Cheyenne is this: When we first met, _she_ didn't view friendship as something that involved any conditions." Reed's tense face came into focus again, and I noticed that her jaw had lowered slightly.

"What...what do you mean by that exactly?" There seemed to be a mysterious discomfort to her tone. Moments later, her head began to droop.

As Reed's expression registered in my mind...my heart sank a bit. Perhaps I'd sounded a little too much like I was making a comparison.

My face twisted into an awkward frown. I could hear myself speaking in a softer tone now. "Listen, all I was saying..." One of my curled fingers gently touched just under Reed's chin, and I lifted her gaze upward before drawing my hand away.

She eyed me with a surprised but calm glance.

"My point here, is that Billings friendships are _conditional_."

Shortly after I said that, Reed began looking off in silence. At times, I could tell that she was about to launch a defense, about to sing the praises of her dorm 'til the end...but then, she'd simply pause, and remain quiet — apparently needing to reevaluate her thoughts.

Eventually, I began to find her drama laughable. She was sitting there acting like I'd exposed her to the world's biggest secret – even though that should have been far from the case. In time, her mouth hung open, her eyes became distant, and I saw her chest flowing rhythmically as her breathing became heavier.

I lifted an eyebrow. "You're either having an epiphany...or you're having something else."

She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

I could tell I had the advantage in our discussion, and I wanted to keep it. "Think about the trials. Think about the initiations," I said.

As I watched her, it appeared that she was doing just that.

"Getting in always comes with a price, it always comes with a _procedure_." I spread my arms a tad. "Even getting out can involve a procedure. Need I mention the voting process?"

Her head sagged a little, and she ran a hand along her chin.

"Look. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, all right? And I'm not claiming to be a know-it-all." I rested my arms along those of the chair. "But I do know this much: If Billings Girls can only be friends under certain conditions, then I'll take a pass...because a true friendship comes with no stipulations, no strings attached."

In the moments to follow, I could tell that Reed was searching for a counter, searching for an answer. After a little while, it appeared that she hadn't found one.

If it had been any other girl from Easton's favorite dorm, I would've surely felt a sense of pride, a sense of triumph. To my surprise, however, I could feel nothing of the sort while looking at her.

I'd meant what I'd said — but didn't feel all that great about saying it. Instead, I lowered my gaze, closed my mouth, and amidst the silence between us, I almost felt kind of...guilty.

* * *

Reed and I were having breakfast now, holding our eyes mainly on the food. I could tell that we both wanted to talk — that we both wanted to resolve the issue we'd raised — but it appeared that we simply weren't sure how.

Then, all of a sudden, one of us finally managed to break the silence. "You have a point about one thing, but you're mistaken about another."

I glanced up from my plate, surprised by her words.

"When it comes to Billings, _admittance_ is conditional...but friendship isn't."

My jaw dropped a tad. Was it possible I'd actually gotten those two elements confused?

"Not all true friendships are defined by their beginnings. Not all of them start off unconditionally."

Defiant as I was feeling, I couldn't deny that her words had a fascinating air about them.

"In school, some friendships begin when people are partnered on an assignment. That's a condition. In sports, some friendships begin when people are assembled on a team. _That's_ a condition."

Glancing off, I quietly thought on this, then slowly looked back toward her.

"And in life, some friendships begin when people are brought together by a common goal." She lifted an eyebrow, staring directly into my eyes as she said that.

Though I tried to hide it, I knew exactly who she was referring to. Part of me felt an urge to glance away, to avoid the awkwardness I was feeling.

Reed, however, demanded my attention as she spoke, demanded that I engage her as she recalled something we _both_ knew. "Some relationships start off under unpleasant circumstances." She briefly closed her eyes with a grin, then said something else familiar. "And some _friendships_ start off under unpleasant conditions..."

I kept listening.

"But ultimately, it's not the beginning that counts most," she smiled again, then winked at me, "it's what comes afterward."

As much as I didn't like to acknowledge this: touche.

Like Reed earlier, I tried searching for an answer, and possibly searching for a counter...but in the moments to follow, it appeared that I couldn't find one. There was no denying what she'd said, because, cleverly enough, she'd just described something that we'd both been living.

A clear confidence was present as she spoke. "Knowing that is how I've been able to count some of the Billings Girls among my friends."

For some strange reason, I'd been feeling a tad discomforted lately whenever I heard her use those last two words: My friends. And if there existed a teeny, weenie possibility that I was feeling jealous, I certainly _wasn't_ going to acknowledge that. Shyly, I simply looked down at my plate again.

"And knowing that, is how I'm able to count _you_ among my friends as well."

Looking back up, I quickly eyed Reed with a surprised expression — maybe revealing a little more emotion than I wanted to. Seconds later, I cleared my throat, and tried diverting attention from my face. "Well...sounds like you won the argument."

"No," she smiled. "Haven't you been listening to what I've said? Ultimately, _I'm_ not the winner here — we both are."

I felt a familiar warmth beginning to radiate within. At this particular moment, more than ever before, I was having a very hard time keeping my private feelings in check. In mere seconds, I realized that there were several reasons for this. First of all, _she'd_ just revealed a few of her feelings to me. Secondly, a small part of me — a part I kept hidden away — was starting to genuinely enjoy her company around the house.

Last, but certainly not least: Right now, I was beginning to feel a level of excitement, a level of joy, that I hadn't felt for a very long time — not since a certain day in the park, when I'd gathered together with three other girls.

* * *

I had many bright and shiny things around my house, but a "good" camera was not one of them. Of all the coincidences in the world, it seemed quite odd that I was being subjected to this one.

In any case, I promised myself that I'd finally buy a new model when the weather permitted. Right now, however, I simply had to make due with the half-decent one I had.

"You sure you want to do this?" asked Reed, who'd begun to blush a little.

I set the camera in place. "I'm sure," I replied with a hidden smile. After setting the timer, I threw a cautious look at the lens, then walked off and joined Reed by the wall. "It's probably not going to work. It always needs a few knocks or adjustments before it does."

She shrugged, grinned, then stared straight ahead.

While I began the countdown in my mind, my thoughts slowly drifted back to the previous time that this had happened. I recalled the park, recalled the fun, and of course, recalled Noelle, Ariana, and Cheyenne. I thought about the warm fantasies that I'd attached to each of them, and the harsh realities that had followed.

Then I remembered the "sign" that I'd apparently received on that day...and while thinking about that, I slowly glanced toward the girl I was presently with.

Afterward, I quietly looked back at the lens.

Reed readied herself, and so did I. The time expired. The two of us posed...

And what do you know? The picture was taken on the very first try.


	6. Friends

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Reed**

"Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me?"

My eyes filled with joy. My body shook with excitement. And my head turned to the girl at my side — then swung back to the amazing sight before us.

Ivy lowered her finger from the light switch, looking a lot less impressed than me. I was amazed that she could be so casual about the whole thing.

The moment she'd mentioned the "game room," my curiosity had crossed the point of no return. Now, the two of us were standing in a large area filled with various forms of entertainment and amusement. The pinball machines were tempting, and the mini-hoop game was even more so. What caught my attention the most, however, was the huge tub at the center of the room, filled with those little multi-colored plastic balls and surrounded by a net at the top. It was the kind of thing I hadn't seen since my last visit to Kidz Zone, when I was...maybe 8-years-old.

One of my arms rose. One of my fingers pointed. I felt myself trembling as I turned to Ivy with a smitten grin, barely able to form a sentence. "Can...I...?"

She shrugged. "Dive right in."

Five seconds later, I'd run up the ramp, charged through the net's opening, and leapt straight into the balls. My laughter came quickly as I sunk nearly to my neck, and began swimming about.

"Unbelievable," I said, shaking my head while I stared at Ivy. "You get to come here and do this anytime you want to."

Her curious gaze had begun wandering around. "I haven't been in this room for years."

Shocked, I drew back a tad. "What? Why not?"

She lifted an eyebrow, giving me a superior, confused look.

"Oh, right," I grinned. "Because 'I'm too Ivy for this sort of thing.' "

She chuckled, rolling her eyes away from me.

A few minutes later, she flipped another switch, prompting lights of a whole different variety to begin booting up. After a medley started to play, I swam over to the edge of the tub, fascinated by what came next. The sight of Ivy Slade leaning over a pinball machine — making quick, concentrated efforts with her hands — was unlike anything I'd ever imagined in her regard. A slow smile swept across my face as I watched, finding the image both amusing and a little odd.

When her game ended, she stood herself up straight, looking the machine over. "Heh...out of practice," she said cooly. "Not as much fun as I remember anyway."

I grinned. "_This_ is."

She turned and threw a peculiar look my way.

I swung my arms through the balls. "I mean, this is about as much fun as _I_ remember."

"Hmph," she glanced off with a smirk.

"Come on," I said quietly.

"Pass. Thanks."

My head leaned to the side, and I made my sweetest puppy dog look. "Come on..."

Ivy pointed. "See, _that_...you practice that a lot in the mirror, don't you?"

A soft giggle escaped my lips.

Moments later, she eased herself into the balls, one leg at a time. Afterwards, she spread her arms, leaned back, and gently settled into place with a sigh.

"Wow," I said, "you've totally missed the point here. This isn't a mud bath, it's a means of amusement. You're not supposed to relax, you're supposed to have fun."

"_Wheeee_..." she said, then closed her eyes. "Satisfied?"

I chuckled again, and after a few seconds, I began to stare. "I like this. I like what I'm seeing here." I paused. "You're beginning to get your spunk back."

She opened her eyes suddenly, watching me with an attentive glance. For a moment, it looked like she was touched that I'd taken notice.

Then we heard a knocking sound. Both Ivy and myself looked toward the open door — which was where we found her mother.

She was dressed similarly to when I'd last seen her at the hospital. "...Hello," she said quietly, taking a few steps forth while eyeing me with a curious stare.

"Mrs. Slade," I said with surprise. "Hi."

She nodded, then slowly turned toward her daughter, clearly a little perplexed with regard to how long I'd been here.

Ivy leaned back and closed her eyes again. "Mom, you remember Reed. She pretty much moved in a few days ago."

Both I and Mrs. Slade watched Ivy in surprise, casting confused stares her way.

Ivy snickered, as though she'd actually seen us, then corrected herself. "She's staying here while waiting out the storm."

Mrs. Slade turned to me again. "Wow, I...I actually had no idea." She offered a friendly chuckle. "You see, I get so busy on the other side of the house..."

Ivy opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling with a bit of controlled resentment.

"Anyway," she continued, "Reed...we're glad to have you here." The woman tossed a warm smile my way; I could tell she was still grateful for my hospital visit. "Just let me know if there's anything I can help you with." She shifted her gaze and spoke up. "You let me know that as well, Ivy."

"...Right," she replied plainly, still looking at the ceiling.

Mrs. Slade smiled at me again, and I nodded with a grin of my own. Then she turned and walked off.

Moments later, Ivy began pulling herself out of the balls.

"Where are you going?"

"You can stay if you want. I'll be in the living room." Her tone was less lively than before.

Shortly afterwards, I was left alone in the center of the tub, the center of the room. While glancing around, I admired all the huge stuffed animals and assorted games, seeing what appeared to be the best fun that money could buy a little girl. Eventually, however, I realized that the things she'd often lacked during childhood were priceless.

It all began to dawn on me now — why she seemed so underwhelmed by this place, why she seemed so used to a quiet house...and why she had the kind of personality she did.

By my account, Ivy had always gotten what she wanted, but _hadn't_ always had what she needed. And from what I could tell, she'd needed friendship, and she'd needed love.

* * *

The latest surprise stopped me right in my tracks. Voices were coming from the living room — voices that didn't belong to Ivy or her mom.

I paused in the hallway, noting that at least one of the people sounded familiar. Then I heard Ivy — heard her mention my name to whoever she was chatting with. Stepping closer, I eventually saw her sitting with her back turned while combing her hair. Moments later, I realized that she was actually talking into a speaker phone. Though my curiosity had spiked, I decided to respect her privacy. Following a brief but notable effort, I turned to walk away. It was about two seconds afterward, however, that I heard something which immediately caught my attention.

"A _Billings Girl_?" said one of the girls on the phone, speaking with pseudo-disgust. "You're hanging out with a Billings Girl?"

My fingertips slid against the wall, coming to a slow stop all of a sudden. Part of my brain was willing my legs to keep moving, while another part was willing them to stay still. It appeared that the latter force was winning.

"She's not a Billings Girl," Ivy replied, "not anymore."

"But she will be again," another voice countered.

"You know she'll go back," said a third.

Now I knew who these girls were. I'd seen them hanging around Ivy often enough, including once while I was talking to Detective Hauer. They were her 'friends,' her admirers. Apparently, she was chatting with the girls via a three-way connection; it sounded like two of them were actually in the same place.

"You can't trust Reed Brennan," said one of them.

For some reason, I began to feel a defensive rush flowing through my body — trying to scream its way out. It felt like these girls were _threatening_ something. I didn't know exactly what it was...but I did know that it was something I seemed to care about.

Turning sideways, I leaned my back against the wall, spreading my palms along it as though I'd become the star of a spy story. An immediate hint of guilt made its presence felt in my mind. I didn't _want_ to eavesdrop, but I didn't want to leave either.

One of the girls asked Ivy a question. "What happened to our plans to overtake Billings? To replace it?"

Peeking from the hallway, I watched Ivy with curious eyes, feeling a slight tension building within as I awaited the answer.

She paused the combing, lowered her head a little, and then spoke very softly. "You're going to have to pursue that on your own now. I've had to let all of that go."

"Why?" asked another.

"It's complicated," she paused, "and at the same time, it really isn't. I need a purpose in life, but taking down Billings isn't it. Not anymore. When I was recovering, I basically realized that all the negative stuff wasn't worth coming back for...but the positive stuff was."

There was a brief pause, and then one of the girls broke the silence. "She's messed with your head."

I assumed that the "she" being referred to was me. Another spark of anger flared, and a huge part of me wanted to walk in there and persuade Ivy to ignore what was being said. Surprisingly enough, the temptation was quite strong.

One of the other girls spoke again. "You're supposed to be the ideal leader in our quest to overthrow Billings — that's _why_ we came to you in the first place."

I closed my eyes.

"...Yes, that _is_ why you came to me, isn't it?" Ivy spoke slowly. "I'm beginning to see that. In fact, I think I'm beginning to see that from a whole new perspective."

My eyes opened suddenly.

"I'd been told this before," she continued, "but I didn't really want to believe it. Now, however, I'd say you've offered some pretty good confirmation."

My lips parted. My head turned. The anger within me was beginning to fade.

The third girl chimed in. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you're more interested in my status than you are in me," Ivy continued. "You admired what I'd done against the Billings Girls, so you decided to, what, use my rage as a means to an end? You wanted to bring down Billings and form something new in its place."

"Yeah, and guess what? We've _told_ you this already," another girl protested. "You never had a problem with any of it before."

"Well I _do_ have a problem with some of it now. In particular, I think I have a problem with the _reasons_ you keep hanging around me. I don't want to be a means to your ends anymore."

"Look, look, look," the third girl cut in, "come on, guys, let's not forget the objective here. Let's not forget who the true enemies are. Ivy, if you feel like we're 'using' you, then how about we just rearrange things a bit? From now on, _we'll_ take the lead in the Billings matter, and _you_ can simply help us."

Ivy scoffed. "Wow. What an _honor_."

"Look, Ivy," the second one chimed in again, "why don't we just give you some time to cool down. All right?" She paused. "But _right now_, we're going to have to ask you to do something else."

"And what would that be?"

"...That girl who's there...Reed Brennan...?"

My eyes were fixed on the living room. I slid back a little, wanting to keep myself out of sight.

"We can't trust her. She's one of them."

"I told you," Ivy continued, "she's not one of them anymore."

"She's still friends with them, though. So before you get off the phone, we need to know that you're going to break things off with her."

Ivy waited a moment. "Break things off?"

"Just cease all the friendly stuff. Don't share any secrets. Don't tell her anything. Basically, just make sure that she's a _guest _there and nothing more."

Another spoke up. "And you have to keep your distance from her in the future as well."

"In short," said the third one, "you need to make a choice. Is it going to be us, or is it going to be Reed?"

Once that had been said, stark silence filled the room, filled the house.

...Except for my heart. I'm pretty sure I could hear that.

At this point, I didn't know if I was feeling anger, tension, fear...jealousy...or some combination of all four. Holding my back and my palms to the wall, I stood in place, and eyed the ceiling. As had been the case the whole time, I did zero speaking, and a lot of listening. I listened when one of the girls asked if Ivy was still there. I listened when another urged her to make the decision. And I listened when Ivy cleared her throat, sat down the comb, and uttered three words I would never forget: "I'm choosing Reed."

My eyes widened at the sound of that.

One of the voices on the phone returned. "...Unbelievable."

No kidding.

"So you're going to choose a _Billings Girl_ over us?"

"She's not a Billings Girl," Ivy sighed, "...and even if she _was_, I wouldn't care at this point. It wouldn't matter. She wouldn't have to be _in_ a dorm or _out_ of a dorm in order to be my friend."

The girl scoffed. "And why is that?"

"Because what you don't seem to understand, is that a true friendship isn't conditional."

"And you're saying you don't _care_ anymore that this girl was an enemy?"

Ivy paused. "I'm saying that ultimately, it's not the beginning that counts most...it's what comes afterward."

I couldn't see my face, but I imagine I was wearing one of the most stunned expressions I'd ever produced. Leaning forth, while still touching the wall, I peeked into the room again.

"Wow," one of the girls spoke with mock amazement, "Reed really, really got to your head."

Ivy began reaching toward the phone. "No," she muttered under her breath, "but she kind of did get to my heart." With that said, Ivy pressed a button and hung up.

Almost immediately afterwards, another phone rang — mine. The familiar ring tone blasted straight from my pajama bottoms, spreading its sound throughout the hallway...and unfortunately, throughout the living room as well. I leapt straight up, eyes wider than ever, then landed and took off running.

Right away, my mind began hoping for the best. Perhaps the tone hadn't really been that loud after all.

Maybe Ivy _hadn't_ heard it. Maybe she hadn't "found me out." And if she _had _heard the sound, then maybe she figured I'd been _approaching_ the room the moment the phone went off. Of course, that wouldn't exactly explain why I'd disappeared all of a sudden, but...

The phone rang again.

After I'd put some serious distance between Ivy and myself — which included ascending the stairs — I finally pulled the phone loose. I was now wishing that I hadn't stopped to pick it up after I'd left the game room. Shaking my head a little with a sigh, I pressed a button and lifted the device to my ear. "Hello?"

"Reed. Hey."

My eyebrows rose a second. "Noelle..."

"What's going on? Haven't heard from you."

I walked into Ivy's room and shut the door. "Quite a lot, actually. I...hello?"

"Reed?"

Static began to obscure our voices. It then dawned on me that the phone was low on power; I hadn't charged it in days. "Noelle? Can you hear me?"

"Barely."

"My phone's about to cut off. I'll call you right back, okay?"

Shortly after hanging up, I sat down on my bed, then picked up Ivy's house phone. Moments later, Noelle and I were talking yet again.

At one point, I thought I heard another click or scratch of some sort, but it appeared to be nothing.

Naturally, I tried dodging the subject of where I was for as long as possible. Inevitably, though, I eventually had to talk about my location...and when that happened, it meant that I also had to talk about Ivy. Not surprisingly — though I'd hoped to be surprised just this once — Noelle's reaction was quite blunt. "Friends? Are you out of your mind?"

"Listen..."

"The girl has a vendetta against us."

"_Had_. She's begun to let go now."

"And that excuses everything?"

"I didn't say that. What I'm saying is that she's decided not to hold a grudge, and I've decided the same thing. If _she_ can rise above the past, then so can I. For that matter, so can you. So can the rest of the girls."

Noelle went quiet.

"And let's be honest here: We both know she had her reasons for resenting the House. We can't just pretend that this was one-sided."

No response came.

"What are we all supposed to do, maintain this grudge for life? The time has come to let go and move on."

After a great deal of silence, which left me quite confused, she finally spoke up again. "Perhaps you're right."

I'd just gotten the latest surprise in what was amounting to quite a few today.

"Fine...I can call a truce with Ivy."

A wave of relief began passing through me.

"But just because we're not going to be enemies, doesn't mean we have to become _friends_. I plan on 'letting go' and 'moving on' without her in my life, and I'll expect all of the other girls — including you — to do the same."

The surprises just kept on coming. "I..." Automatically, a word slowly left my mouth. "No." But then I paused, stopped to think about what I was saying.

"What?"

I took a moment to confirm the refusal to myself, and then... "I said no."

"You're saying you'd choose her over me?" I detected a genuine amount of hurt in Noelle's voice.

At this point, I began to recall how much I'd missed her up until recently. With a sigh, I slowly continued. "I'm saying I shouldn't have to choose anything. I'm saying a true friendship isn't conditional."

She listened.

"And I'm saying that the only one who needs to make a choice here is you. Listen, I _want _us to stay on good terms...but the fact is, I happen to be on good terms with someone else now too. That doesn't prevent me from being your friend." I paused for a moment. "But if you're going to let it prevent you from being mine...then that's unfortunate."

Noelle was quiet again for a while.

I was quiet too.

"No...it doesn't prevent me from being your friend," she finally said.

"Good." I smiled.

Once we'd exchanged our final words of the call, Noelle was the first to hang up. Right afterwards, I heard something similar to the sound I'd noticed before — another click, or another scratch.

And then I realized what it _really_ sounded like. It was the same sound I'd heard back home at times, when my brother used to hang up after listening in on my phone calls. And since _he_ wasn't here, that only left two candidates, one of whom had a separate line, on the other side of the house.

Oh great. Had Ivy picked up the phone again? Had she stumbled across my conversation while intending to make a call? And if so, had she heard the few parts I might not have wanted her to hear — the parts that would drag my private feelings right out into the open?

An irked frown crossed my face. Why would she listen in on someone else's phone call? Who would do a thing like that?

Shortly after asking this question, I caught sight of myself in the mirror...and that was when I started to chuckle, and before long, I'd also started to laugh. Falling back on the bed, I spread my arms, closed my eyes, and simply let the giggles come.

* * *

"Hey," I said, walking into the living room.

"Hey," replied Ivy, glancing between me and the TV.

I plopped right down beside her on the couch, directing my gaze toward the flashing screen. She held her eyes forward, continuing to click the remote.

Both of us were quiet for a little while. In time, she finally settled on something that was worth watching.

I leaned back and folded my arms. Ivy tossed down the remote and placed her hands in her lap.

The silence continued.

"You know something?" I held my attention on the TV.

"What?" she asked, looking forward as well.

Slowly but surely, I felt a long grin arriving. "It's nice to know who your friends are."

Ivy lowered her gaze...then looked off with a light chuckle. "Yeah."


	7. Family

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Reed**

The winter wonderland was gone. Just about. Everything outside had pretty much gone back to normal. I could spot the gray of the pavement, the green of the trees. And looking farther out into the distance, I could see that the roads were alive again too, filled with a steady stream of vehicles moving back and forth.

It had been this way for a few days now. Each evening, as the sun began to set, I'd been coming up to where I currently was — my favorite spot on the baflcony — which provided a nice aerial view of things.

Just as I stood to head back inside, I saw the silhouette of a shady, long-haired figure approaching from within. Seconds later, my companion pulled the sliding door open, grasping its handle while locking her sights on me. It was at that point that I saw something I didn't see everyday: Ivy Slade looked worried. There was a clear nervousness in her gaze, a clear tension in her eyes.

I blinked, holding my breath a moment, watching her with a confused stare.

"There are some visitors coming for dinner tonight."

A relieved sigh escaped my mouth. "Is _that_ all?" I began to chuckle. "Who?"

She licked her lips, averting her gaze. "My family."

* * *

"Shoes."

"...Shoes."

Ivy said it, and I repeated it, sliding her flats across the floor as we continued our preparations.

"Um, perfume?" I swung my head about curiously.

"Perfume." Ivy tossed a bottle through the air, and I clumsily caught it at the last second.

Moments later, I still hadn't figured out how to actually spray the stuff. Even _it_ was more complex than what I was used to. Taking a glance at the clock, I sat the bottle down and went to work on something else. After all, I didn't exactly have all evening.

Dressing fancy for big dinners was a Slade family tradition, which was why Ivy and I were currently racing against time. Apparently, several limousines were on the way, filled with a number of aunts, uncles, and cousins as well.

"Hair clip," she muttered.

I tossed one across the bed, then returned to fiddling with the outfit I'd been provided.

Shortly afterwards, Ivy's gaze swung my way again, looking me over with the latest in a series of tense stares. "You're doing that wrong."

Unfortunately, I wasn't quite sure _what_ she was referring to, because there were so many things to choose from.

Ivy took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Just sit down here."

I plopped onto the foot of the bed, running my eyes along the black dress I was wearing — which was quite similar to hers. It wasn't long afterwards that I began to blush, feeling like a living doll as Ivy knelt and fastened the straps of my shoes, helping me slip on an old pair that she'd outgrown. Then she stood and opened the perfume bottle, quite effortlessly, beginning to spray it on me in all the right places.

"Tilt your head a little," she said, brushing her fingers across my hair as she made a few adjustments. "Listen, Reed..." there was a hint of tension in her tone, "...I have these cousins who..."

"...I'm listening."

"Look, whatever they say to you tonight...I mean, if they bring up Billings—"

A sudden knock came at the door, and Ivy's mother walked in. Her hair was up in a clip, and she was dressed in a long golden gown. "They're here," she said with a grin. After looking us over, Mrs. Slade quietly let herself out.

Ivy threw another unsettled look my way, and it wasn't long before I could feel a slight chill beginning to spread throughout my body. If _she_ was worried, then it would appear that I had reason to be as well. I just didn't exactly know why.

Moments later, we stepped out and began walking...when Ivy paused at the top of the staircase. Naturally, I stopped right along with her.

"Aunt Violet," she said, producing the sunniest tone and brightest smile she could.

Following her gaze, I looked down and saw an older woman with short brown hair, standing before a slew of people pouring in. Her face lit up with a grin. "Ivy, _Slade_," she said with energy. "Just look at you."

Ivy made a half-sneer, then quietly chuckled and nodded.

Continuing to smile, Violet brought her fingers to her lips for a second, then lowered them with a concerned look. "Are you _all right_? How are you feeling?"

"What? Oh...the recovery. Yes, I'm...I'm doing all right now, thanks."

It was then that Violet's gaze began to shift, swaying to her niece's left. "And who might this be?" She began to curiously glance between Ivy and myself, apparently noting the similarity of our outfits.

Ivy let out a soft breath. "Aunt Violet, this is Reed."

I nodded with a grin. "It's nice to meet you." Behind Violet, the chatter and laughter began to spread as more people arrived, people who hadn't spotted Ivy yet.

"Hello," Violet smiled at me. "And will you be joining us for dinner?"

"I—"

"She will." Ivy cut me off, as though she was afraid to let me say even the littlest thing.

I shrugged and chuckled. Then I cupped my hands behind my back, tilted my head sideways, and gently tapped it against Ivy's. "What she said."

Violet giggled, beginning to stare at us. "You know," she spoke quietly, her smile melting into a more serious look, "if I didn't know better, I'd almost think you two were sisters."

Ivy's eyebrows rose, her face freezing in surprise. Her whole body seemed to have gone stiff, as though she'd just been told the most atrocious thing she'd ever heard in her life.

Slowly, I swung my gaze between the aunt and the niece, then quietly stepped away from the latter — giving her what appeared to be much needed space.

"...Heh," Ivy chuckled, staring at Violet with gritted teeth.

* * *

"So. Reed." Alicia Slade, a cousin around Ivy's age, stared down at her plate while cutting the food. "You're a Billings Girl, right?" The slightest hint of a smirk appeared.

"Play nice now," said Nadine, Alicia's sister. Judging by the smug grin, I could tell she didn't really mean it.

Around 20 of us were sitting at a rectangular table in a very large, dimly lit dining room. The women were wrapped in beautiful dresses. The men were wearing elegant suits.

I was still donned in the outfit that I'd been given, but I'd begun to wear a couple of other things as well: an embarrassed frown, and a steady blush. When you were the only person in a room who wasn't used to being there, it became quite easy for everyone to tell. With each passing minute, it felt like a huge spotlight was shining down on my corner.

"Umm...that's right," I replied with a nervous smile. Following Alicia's lead, I looked down at my plate, hoping that I could will everyone else to do the same. Moments later, however, I had to look back up upon being spoken to again.

"You'll have to pardon my fascination," Alicia continued, stroking her long brown hair. "You see, we don't have Billings Girls at our school...though from what I hear," she looked at the plate and raised her eyebrows, "it seems that may be a good thing."

I heard an open giggle afterwards. Glancing around, I spotted a couple of the men whispering something to each other. Looking elsewhere, I saw some of the women making similar gestures. Everyone seemed more amused than sympathetic, as though they were proud of Alicia's boldness...as though they wanted her to keep entertaining them.

There was at least one notable exception present, though — and that was the girl sitting at my side.

Ivy let out a deep breath, and glanced down at her lap. She was unusually meek, unusually quiet. It was one of the few times I'd ever seen her looking this uneasy.

Isabelle, one of Ivy's other cousins, suddenly chimed in. "What I don't understand is this: Why do there even need to _be _dorms like that anyway?" She chuckled, brushing back her short, stringy red hair. Then she turned and looked me in the eye. "Why do schools need 'elite dorms'?" It sounded like she only wanted to hear my answer so that she could make fun of it.

"They don't," Alicia cut in with another raised eyebrow. "It's not the _schools_ that feel a need to form elite societies...it's certain girls who attend them." She glanced at Ivy. "Right?"

Ivy let her eyes wander. "Uh..."

Nadine expanded her sister's assertion. "That's true. The schools simply _create_ each dorm — assigning them equal status when they're built. It's the girls _within_ the dorms that create the hierarchy, the competition...the elitism. It's the girls _within_ the dorms — dorms like Billings — who assign their Houses 'upper-class' status." A mocking expression appeared.

I could feel my face going warm as several eyes around the room turned to me, as though I was being accused of something. Immediately, I found myself looking down again.

Isabelle laughed. "That still doesn't answer my question, though: _Why_ do they do that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Alicia. "The girls in those dorms..." she shook her head, "they simply enjoy feeling superior to others. They simply have a certain _need_ for that sort of thing. And so do the girls who _join_ them." As I glanced up, she turned and locked eyes with me. "Present company excluded." She made a half-grin, as though uncertain.

"Sure," I muttered under my breath. "Thanks." After a quiet pause, I turned to my right...and that was when my gaze locked onto Ivy's.

As she eyed me, her mouth was partly open, and her stare was apologetic and regretful. It wasn't long before I came to realize something: At one point or another, she'd played some part in helping to shape her cousins' opinion. Now, though...she looked as though she didn't quite share it anymore. Not entirely anyway. However, she also looked as though she wasn't quite ready to announce that to the table. If _anyone_ here was going to defend Billings' name, Billings' honor, it wasn't going to be her.

And that left only one possible candidate.

"Actually..." I cleared my throat, and threw a cautious look outward. My voice was soft and quiet.

Alicia lifted an eyebrow, welcoming the possible challenge.

"Most of them aren't like that." My voice strengthened a little. "Most of today's Billings Girls are decent people, and they don't join in order to look down on others."

"_Really_?" said Nadine with exaggeration, speaking as though it was the most amazing thing in the world.

"Yes. Really," I replied flatly, trying not to sound too irked. "That's just a stereotype. It's just an assumption."

Ivy watched me quietly, almost looking as though she wanted to chime in.

"I mean...well..." a brief pause came over me, "_I_, at least, didn't join for that reason," I finally said.

"Why _did_ you join then?" asked Veronica, a cousin who had hair like Ivy's.

A quick chill passed through me. "I joined because...because..."

Out of nowhere, as though a trigger had suddenly been pulled, Ivy looked up, and faced the group with a brave stare. "Reed joined for personal reasons." She interlocked her fingers on the table. "And we'll just leave it at that."

I felt like I was about to blush suddenly. "Um, yeah," I added.

A few of the girls giggled, then went back to their food.

"What's so funny, Ally?" Ivy tossed her gaze toward Alicia. "I think we all know that _you've_ done things for 'personal reasons' before," she winked.

Several of the adults around us erupted in a brief rouse of laughter.

Rolling her eyes, Alicia picked up a piece of salad and tossed it toward Ivy. A second before it could hit, though...I'd reached out, and grasped it from the air.

For one brief moment, a moment in which time appeared to slow a little, Ivy and I faced each other with similar smiles — feeling what appeared to be something secret, special, and mutual.

Alicia spoke up again. "Well, yeah, but," she shrugged, "from what I hear, most people don't join Billings for personal reasons alone — they also join for professional ones."

"No _wonder_," said Isabelle, speaking with mock awe. "They say that Billings serves as a golden ticket. I've heard that students within are treated to a bit of favoritism now and then." Her eyes fixed on me.

Suddenly, I found myself trying to look a bit more confused than I actually was.

"What? It's true isn't it?"

I licked my lips. "Well..."

"When career representatives visit Easton — looking to aid and scout for potential talent — isn't Billings the first place they stop by? Don't they do that regardless of whether or not other students may be more deserving?"

Veronica chimed in. "They do. I've heard tales of complaints from the other kids."

I glanced around, seeing everyone's eyes on me again as they ate. I turned to Ivy, and could tell that she didn't have an answer for this one. After all, it was hard to put up a defense when the accusation was undeniable.

"So anyway," Isabelle eyed me and tilted her head to the side, "Billings Girls get special treatment, right?"

I sighed and glanced down. "Maybe."

She drew back a tad. "_Maybe_?"

Veronica nodded. "I believe the answer is, 'definitely.' "

Ivy glared. "Guys. Why don't we just let it go, all right?"

"What's the problem?" Isabelle chuckled. "We're simply examining a certain truth of the Billings sisterhood."

"Heh," said Nadine, "I can never really get past that term — 'sisterhood.' " She looked off. "From what I hear about Billings, I think it's kind of offensive for the dorm to use that label."

I was staring at her now. "Why is that?"

She lifted her eyebrows a second, then turned to Alicia. "A _sister_ is someone who always sticks up for you — someone who's there for you no matter what." Nadine eyed her plate again. "No offense, Reed, but I've heard about the scandals surrounding Billings, including ones that occurred years before your time. To me, it sounds like Billings Girls are typically driven by ambition." She looked up at me. "And when push comes to shove, it sounds like ambition usually trumps 'sisterhood.' "

Stunned silence gripped me now. "I..." It would be kind of challenging to try denying what she'd said. "Maybe that's...true. To an extent," I mumbled, then looked over at Isabelle. "And maybe the thing about favoritism is true too." A quiet pause came over me. "I can't deny that Billings Girls get special attention from people who visit the school...but I can say this: It doesn't happen for the reasons you might think. Instead, it actually happens for reasons that make a good deal of sense. Look at Billings' track record."

Isabelle appeared perplexed. "What do you mean?"

I was a second away from replying, when to my surprise, Ivy got there first. "She means that several Billings Girls have gone on to successful careers. That's why representatives and talent scouts seek out Billings first when they come to Easton."

I watched her in mild awe. It never dawned on me that I'd see the day when Ivy Slade said something decent about Billings.

Alicia shrugged. "Is that why Billings Girls get off easy when they get in trouble? Does the school just assume that they've all got great careers ahead of them, so a slap on the wrist is all they need?"

I wore a confused frown. " 'A slap on the wrist'? 'Getting off easy'?"

"Come on, Reed," she chuckled, "you can't deny that when Billings Girls are caught in the act, they rarely face the kinds of consequences that others would. I don't know everything about the dorm, but I'm pretty sure I know that much."

Veronica nodded. "It's common knowledge."

My eyes were moving back and forth between them. "That's not..." Wait. Could I actually deny this one? "That's..."

"...Not entirely true." Once again, someone had spoken up on my behalf. And once again, that someone happened to be Ivy.

The others turned to her with perplexed stares.

"There _are_ academic consequences," she continued. "Not long ago, Easton was planning on shutting Billings down." Ivy paused. "There are also personal consequences — ones that take their tolls on deeper levels."

I, of all people, certainly knew that.

Over the next few moments, my gaze began to wander. I looked around the room, seeing that most of the adults at the table had retreated into their own conversations. I looked at the other girls, seeing that they seemed just as surprised by Ivy's words as I was. And finally, I looked down at my plate, seeing that I happened to be done with dinner.

Not wanting to deal with any further Billings-related arguments, I quietly stood, scooping up my dishes. "I'm, uh..." I turned to Ivy, "I'm going to go wash these."

"You don't have to."

My voice lowered. "I know," I said with an awkward grin.

She watched me a few seconds, then nodded and looked away. It seemed she'd understood. "So then," she faced the others with an energetic smile, "what else is there to catch up on?"

As I walked off, I heard some of them asking about her recovery again. Ivy politely changed the subject. I imagined that this left the girls confused — and if there was anything at all that I had in common with them, it was the fact that Ivy had left us perplexed all evening. One thing was crystal clear, though: I may not have understood her actions, but I certainly did appreciate them.

* * *

From a window in Ivy's room, I watched as the last of the limousines drove off into the distance. Afterwards, I simply sat down on the side of my bed. A couple of hours had passed since I'd left the kitchen, after which I'd bypassed the dining room, and walked directly up here.

The door opened a crack, and Ivy threw a curious peek inside. After spotting me, she quietly entered.

"Listen," I said, "I'm sorry about not coming back to the table, or coming back downstairs, or..." My words simply trailed off.

Ivy touched down on her bed, sitting right across from me. "Don't worry about it."

I held my eyes on the floor.

She remained quiet for a while.

"Why did you keep defending Billings like that?"

She paused before answering. "Billings?"

I looked up and nodded. "Whenever I got all desperate to defend Billings...you kept coming to its rescue yourself. Why?"

Ivy stared at me a moment. "I didn't do it for Billings."

My eyebrows briefly rose.

She looked off, running a finger along her chin shyly. "I just kind of recalled what Aunt Violet said. It kind of caught me off-guard at first, but..."

Wait. Was she talking about what I thought she was?

"And I also recalled what Nadine mentioned later."

I eyed her with a slightly lowered jaw, unable to say anything.

She spoke quietly. "Sisters stick together," Ivy muttered. She kept her eyes averted, kept her private feelings hidden, even when they were pulled out into the open. "A sister is someone who's..." she shook her head a little, apparently trying to remember, "who's..."

I spoke up, but did so softly. "...Someone who's there for you no matter what."

She looked to the floor now, nodding.

My eyes were fixed on Ivy a while, watching her closely, calmly.

"So anyway..." she shrugged, then glanced at the window between us. I turned and looked outward too.

The snow was melting. The sky was darkening. And in the distance, we could both see that the sun was starting to go down.

Everywhere we looked, by all indications, it seemed that the beginning of an ending had arrived.

She slapped her hands together and interlocked her fingers. "Got any plans for tomorrow?"

I rested my palms on my knees. "Can't say I have anything specific in mind." I felt a smile crossing my face. "But I _can_ say that lately, however...I've been feeling quite curious about what _tomorrow_ will bring."

Ivy watched me with a calm, collected grin. "Me too."


	8. Trust

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Reed**

My head emerged from the pit of multi-colored balls, sending a few of them scattering about. "So. Why Gage?"

With a slight fidget, Ivy paused at the pinball machine. A second later, it sounded like she'd missed an incoming.

"Sorry," I said.

She and I were wearing our usual attire. I was in the freshly washed silk pajamas, and she was in a new nightgown.

No response came at first, so after a few seconds, I continued. "It's just that, well, I've been thinking about it." And I had. Quite deeply.

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "I'm just noticing an odd shift when it comes to your taste in boys. To go from a guy like Gage to a guy like..." My words came to a slow stop. "I was just wondering, is all. I was just wondering what had attracted you to him in the first place."

Ivy started the game up again.

"Why Gage?"

"Why not?"

I paused. "It's only a question. You act like I'm going to put this information on the Internet or something." That was when I noticed it. Slowly but surely, I'd begun to care less about the question itself, and more about Ivy's _reaction_ to it. For some reason, her guarded attitude was irking me a little. "You talk to me about _trust_ being an integral part of friendship, but—"

"It was simply a physical thing."

"All right," I nodded. "But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you even enter a relationship like that?"

She turned around, lifting her eyebrows. "Do you really need me to spell it out for you?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I'm asking you. Why _settle_ for that? Why settle for him — someone who was mainly after that sort of thing?" I swam a little closer to the edge. "You know that _Josh_ isn't just with you for physical reasons. He's too good a guy for that. What I'm asking is, Why didn't you just pass up a guy like Gage and seek out a guy like Josh from the start?"

Ivy watched me for a few seconds, then slowly looked away. "Is this because you wish I'd been unavailable for Josh?"

I jerked in surprise, and my curious expression had quickly given way to a stunned one. "No. I...I..." My eyes began to wander now. Truth was, I hadn't asked the question for that reason. However, now that she'd mentioned it, now that she'd brought it up...it was quite tempting to look back on that possibility and feel wishful.

Ivy returned her gaze to me, and for a moment, I detected a sign of hurt in her eyes.

"Listen," I moved closer to the net, "I wasn't wondering for that reason, okay? I'm just honestly confused as to why you'd never found a _real_ relationship before Josh. I'm just wondering why you settled for what Gage was offering." I lifted my eyebrows. "I imagine that a girl like you wouldn't have trouble finding a real boyfriend."

"A 'girl like _me_.' " Ivy tilted her head sideways with a curious smile. "Is this tied to the glamour issue again?"

My eyebrows lowered a tad. "...Seems that anything I say, anything I ask, you become _suspicious_ of. Why is that?"

She chuckled. "Why is it bothering you so much?"

"Because I'm wondering why it's happening now." I wouldn't return her smile. "What exactly does someone have to _do_ in order to earn your trust?"

Ivy looked away, her expression growing more serious.

It was moments later, while watching her closely, that I slowly realized she'd had a point. "All right..." I nodded, "I've already admitted that at one time, I _did_ view you as just another pretty face, just another glamour girl. But you know that's not the case anymore. I've acknowledged that you have more depth than that." My expression softened.

She turned back to me, watching quietly.

Slowly, I shook my head a little. "After all that's happened, why are you becoming suspicious of me _now_? After all that we've...we've..." And that was when I locked eyes with her, and simply went quiet. Over the next few seconds, my mind moved away from the argument that I was about to make, the _reasoning_ that I was about to stress. For a moment, I had to let myself forget all of the personal ground that she and I had covered since I'd come here. I stopped thinking about where we'd been, and started thinking about where I, specifically, was _going_: back to Billings.

And then I began to understand where her trust issues arose. I began to understand them all too clearly.

Calming myself, I stared at Ivy a bit longer, looking her straight in the eyes. And then I spoke, just above a whisper. "I'm sorry for what you went through with Cheyenne..."

She let her gaze drift downward.

"But I'm not her."

Ivy held her stare on the floor.

Eventually, I lowered mine as well.

And then, after what seemed like a long silence, I finally heard two words: "I know."

My eyebrows rose, and my head did as well.

Ivy slowly nodded while looking at me. "After everything that we've discussed during our time here...I'm beginning to truly realize that.

"You're not Cheyenne," she calmly shook her head, "and even if she _hadn't_ betrayed me — even if she and I had never stopped being friends — I wouldn't want you to be her."

I began to eye her quietly, recalling the trust issues. "What _do_ you want from me, Ivy?"

She stared back for a little while. "At this point, Reed...I just want you to keep being you."

* * *

I was leaning against one side of the ball pit, and not far from my spot, Ivy was leaning against another. We both had our eyes on the ceiling.

"So what happens now?" I finally asked.

Ivy swung her arms throughout the balls slowly. "I don't know. We can go watch that DVD if you want to, or—"

"No, I mean...what happens _now_?"

Silence filled the room as she realized what I was referring to.

"I'm not too certain," she said after a while. "When you're hanging out with the Billings Girls at school...and you suddenly spot _me_ down the hall..." she paused a moment, "are you just going to look the other way?"

"No." I turned to her with a calm stare.

She moved her gaze toward me, confirming the answer.

"When I wave to _you_ from down the hall, and you're hanging out with anti-Billings friends...are _you_ just going to look the other way?"

"No," she shook her head.

Looking into her eyes, I found myself believing what she said.

Ivy averted her gaze, leaned back, and spoke a tad quieter suddenly. "You had a point before."

"What do you mean?"

"You said that I could've tried finding a real relationship with a guy. That instead, I'd simply _settled_ for what I had with Gage." She paused again, keeping her eyes averted. "And you were right. I did."

I stared, lowering my own voice now. "Why?"

She sported an awkward expression for a second. "I grew up in a long-distance relationship with my mom...even though we were living in the very same house.

"After a while, I began telling myself not to expect too many strong relationships in life."

I listened closely.

"That started to change when I met Cheyenne — but only to an extent. Outside of her, I didn't know if I could really be close to anyone else. That's why I settled for the situation with Gage." She quieted a moment. "It wasn't just limited to romantic relationships; in time, I felt this way about friendships too."

I quickly realized what she was referring to.

"After Cheyenne made her choice that night...I was right back to where I'd started. I felt like I couldn't really get attached to anyone."

My expression had begun to soften again as I watched her.

"I don't know how much longer he and I will be together, but I _do_ know that after I started dating Josh, I realized that I didn't have to settle for cheap thrills. My attitude on relationships began to change when I let myself get to know him."

I glanced off. It wasn't a surprising thing to hear.

"And my attitude on friendships began to change when I let myself get to know you."

Stunned, I swung my gaze back to her. I watched Ivy as she looked away, surprised once again that she'd boldly, but quietly, decided to let some of her private feelings show. "I, um..."

She ran her hands along the balls.

In short time, I simply let myself grin. "That's maybe one of the nicest things anyone's ever told me."

* * *

Ivy and I were sitting on the living room couch now, sitting in front of a DVD.

It took me a while to finally say the words that left my mouth. "I think I'll have to go tomorrow."

She didn't look at me. She didn't budge. "...Why?"

My words were quieter than I'd expected. To my surprise, my throat had become a little thicker as well. "I've got some things I want to take care of before break ends."

Silence filled the room for a while after that.

"You can keep the pajamas, and the dress and shoes if you want."

I shook my head a little. "Thanks, but, I can't."

"Sure you can. It's no problem."

"...Thanks."

We both went quiet again. It seemed we were having a hard time facing each other.

"Look," I finally spoke up, "about everything that you've said here in confidence — I'm not going to...you know...I'm not going to tell anyone," I tried assuring her. "I'm not going to go spreading the details."

And then, Ivy said two familiar words — a small, brief statement that had come to mean quite a lot to me. "I know."

I turned to her, watching quietly for a moment. "You do?"

Ivy nodded. "I'm not worried about you leaking any of the things I've said." She held her gaze forward, and briefly lifted an eyebrow. "After all, I wouldn't have told you...if I didn't trust you."


	9. Beginning

_Private_

Copyright Alloy Entertainment and Kate Brian

**Private Feelings**

* * *

**Reed**

And now the hard part.

The time had come to bring this visit to an end. The time had come to actually leave her home. With each passing minute, I kept trying. And with each passing minute, I kept failing.

My head sagged, and I wore a sad smile while standing at the house's exit. It had never been this difficult for me to simply walk up to a knob and open a door. Never — not even at the hospital.

After a while, I quietly sighed and looked myself over. I was wearing the outfit I'd come here in, along with a jacket I'd recently been given. By my side was a bag containing the clothes I'd been offered. Besides those, my hostess had thrown in a few perfume bottles and other trinkets as well. Basically, I had everything I'd shown up with, and more.

That wasn't the only act of kindness I'd received today, though. Mere moments ago, a limousine had been summoned on my behalf. From this point forth, there were two options available: Wait outside, or wait within. The former was tempting — I could use the fresh air — but something appeared to be keeping me still. Something was bonding me to the _inside_ of the house.

Perhaps it was a certain truth that I'd come to realize deep down: Despite any pretty things that I could take with me, my most cherished valuable would be staying here.

Tossing my gaze toward the nearest window, I looked out at the last bits of thawing ice and melting snow. It was quite a thing to behold. For the past several days, it seemed that a _lot_ of frost had been fading away — both outside of these walls, and within.

Holding my stare outward, I began to recall something I'd pondered not long ago: Melting snow signifies an ending. And sure enough, I would come to look back on today as the point when a certain ending had arrived. It was the last day of my stay here.

Turning to my left, I caught sight of the mantle again, I looked over the many pictures adorning it. As I slowly ran my gaze from one side to the other, I suddenly froze upon reaching the last photo, eyeing it with a wide-eyed stare. This picture _definitely_ hadn't been up there before.

Just as I was about to take a closer look, a soft melody began filling the room. Turning around, I caught sight of a hand on the radio, and from there, my eyes crawled along a lavender-clad arm until they reached the face of Ivy Slade, who was watching me calmly. She was wearing the familiar gown. Her hair was nicely split around her shoulders, some of it in front, some of it behind.

"The car should be here any minute." Her tone was unusually gentle, unusually quiet.

But then again, so was mine. "Thanks." I began looking down at the bag, shyly avoiding eye contact.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Ivy placing her hands behind her back, and leaning against a wall while watching the ceiling.

For a while, the music was the only sound present within the room. It seemed that neither of us knew exactly how to say _good-bye_.

Glancing toward her, I finally tried getting a few words out, though I wasn't entirely sure where my sentence was going. "Listen, I...I..."

Ivy's lips were tight, her eyes were tense, and, looking a little closer, it appeared that her cheeks had gone a tad rosy.

With a low sigh, I went back to looking elsewhere.

She was silent.

So was I.

...And then something happened. I began to take notice of the song that was currently playing. I listened carefully as the slow, calm lyrics continued.

_"...Close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there..."_

My eyes slowly narrowed. My lips partly widened. A slight grin adorned my face.

_"To brighten up, even your darkest nights."_

A quiet chuckle left my mouth. "Is this an oldies station?"

_"You just call out my name..."_

She lowered her gaze. "What's funny?"

_"And you know wherever I am, I'll come running..."_

"I never took you for an oldies gal."

_"To see you again."_

Ivy shrugged. "Now and then, I guess."

My smile was still up. I fully turned to her now, watching with a bit more fascination than I could hide, shaking my head a bit. "That's the latest of several nice things I've discovered about you."

_"Winter, spring, summer or fall..."_

I paused, confirming what I was about to say. "And in this case..."

_"All you got to do is call..."_

I continued. "The last was definitely the _least_."

_"And I'll be there..."_

She finally faced me, and our eyes were locked a moment.

_"You've got a friend."_

Seconds later, I lifted an eyebrow. "Who's singing this anyway?"

"James Taylor," she said as the song continued amidst our words.

"Listen," I said again, making sure to face her as I spoke, "there's something I kind of want to say before leaving."

She licked her lips, watching me.

"I had fun here — with you."

Her mouth opened slightly...and then she turned her head a little. "Yeah, I..." Ivy paused, let out a fast sigh, then returned her gaze to me. "I wish you didn't have to go." She'd spoken very quickly, as though trying to get it over with. However, she'd kept her eyes on my face the entire time — and was keeping them there now as well.

As the two admissions sunk in, I watched Ivy, and Ivy watched me. We both began to smile...

And finally, just like that, our private feelings were allowed to become less than private.

"Before I forget..." she suddenly turned to walk off, then came back moments later and extended a long manilla envelope.

"What's this?" I asked while accepting it. Before she could answer, we both heard the car's arrival right out front.

Ivy glanced at the window, then watched me again, teeth gritted with a somewhat uneasy smile.

After walking out to fresh air, we watched the limo while standing side by side.

Then the silence returned.

"So..." I eventually said.

"So..." Ivy nodded.

My eyebrows lowered a moment. "Are you going to be answering the phone?"

"What? Yeah...yeah, I'll be answering it."

"I mean, 'cause I'm going to be calling and all..."

"Okay," Ivy gave me an assuring nod. "I'll answer." She paused. "I mean, I answered _last time_, didn't I?"

I began to giggle, and after a moment, so did she. "Yes," I said, "yes you did." A sudden warmth grew within me as I thought about the day she'd referred to, along with everything that had happened since. Shortly afterwards, I recalled something else. "I heard your mom say that she was done with her current work."

"Pretty much, I think."

"That's good."

Ivy watched me for a little while, then looked down and began rubbing the back of her head. "So, then..."

"Yeah," I said. "Well, I'd...you know, I'd better..."

"Okay."

"Okay," I nodded.

She lifted her head.

After a few seconds of staring, I quietly spoke up again. "Is this the part where we're supposed to hug?"

A familiar hint of surprise adorned her face. "I..." Ivy wore a confused frown, and her gaze began to wander.

In moments, I kind of followed suit, then chuckled. "You know what? I guess I'll see you later, all right?"

"All right."

With those words exchanged, our conversation finally ended. I secured the bag, turned in place, and steadily headed for the limo.

The world went quiet as I moved...

And then, about halfway to the car, I found myself coming to a slow halt. For a few seconds, I merely paused where I stood. Then I turned around, and skipped back toward the house.

She watched me with a surprised stare.

Slowing a little, I approached with a calm grin, looked Ivy straight in the eye, and wrapped my free arm around her back in embrace. A moment later, Ivy responded by bringing her own arms around me. Standing there, we gently held each other, squeezing softly without a word.

Then we pulled back, holding each other's arms, eyeing one another with calm nods and firm grins.

Shortly afterwards, I walked back toward the limo, getting inside this time. After we'd both waved goodbye, Ivy quietly entered her home, disappearing behind the closed door.

The driver and I exchanged greetings, and the car began to move. As I stared out the window, my eyes became fascinated once again by the sight of melting snow. My thoughts became preoccupied yet again by the image that marked an ending.

Eventually, I reached into the bag and took hold of the long manilla envelope. After opening it up and pulling out its contents...my attention was immediately fixed on the sight before my eyes. In my hands was a copy of the very same photo I'd noticed on the mantle — the picture of Ivy and myself, taken inside of her house.

Something brewed within me, something gentle, deep, and warm. With a wide, soft smile, I tossed another glance at the window, catching sight of the fading snow once again. But upon turning back to what was in my grasp, I realized that I'd been mistaken about today. I definitely would _not_ look back on it in the way I'd originally thought.

While staring at the two girls in the photo, seeing them standing side by side, I knew for sure that today wouldn't be remembered as an ending — it was just the beginning.

_**FIN**_


	10. Epilogue

**Private Feelings**

Epilogue

* * *

**Ivy**

Silence. Pure silence.

Ever since she'd left my house, taken an extended vacation, and come back to find Billings gone, Reed had been particularly quiet. And not just with me, but with everyone, it seemed.

Sitting on my bed in our dorm, I leaned toward her room and listened carefully. Every now and then, I could hear the slightest of movements — a scooting chair, a faint footstep — but other than that, there was barely any sound.

I wondered what was bothering her. I wondered what was wrong. And since I couldn't read minds, it seemed that there was only one way to find out.

Slowly, my eyes drifted toward the closed door. I hesitated a moment, but soon afterward, I found myself standing out in the hallway. A few steps later, I'd arrived just outside of her room.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Who is it?" said a soft voice.

"...It's me, Reed."

I heard her rise — almost immediately, from the sound of it. She opened the door seconds later, running her eyes over me with a half-surprised stare. "Hey."

"Hi," I said gently, licking my lips while watching her. I interlocked my fingers behind my back, broke eye contact, paused...then faced her again, squinting for a second. "You okay?"

Another flash of surprise arrived on her face. I couldn't tell if it was genuine or not, but her expression produced a silent answer: _Why wouldn't I be?_

"I don't know," I said suddenly, as though I could read minds after all. "I mean...the thing is...you've been a little quiet lately."

Just like she was being quiet now.

I looked her straight in the eye. "Is it because of Billings?"

Her lips parted a crack.

"Is it about what we discussed before...about your mom?" I tried speaking softer, realizing I should probably tread lightly here.

Reed lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Are you worried about where your future is headed — now that Billings is gone?"

She looked up at me again, clearly surprised.

I was the one to avert my gaze now. "...Remember what we talked about at my house? The glitz? The glamour?" I paused. "Remember how I said that you wouldn't need to surround yourself with all that in order to build a decent future?" I made myself look at her again.

Reed grimaced slightly. "I remember." She glanced off. "...I've just been trying to reassure myself of that."

I made a quiet sigh. "Billings may be reborn eventually — in some way, or some form...but with or without it, you're going to be fine."

I saw the first sign of a smile appearing now. "You know, you're the first person to come here and do this."

"Do what?"

"This. Checking up on me about that. Asking how I am."

"...It's nothing," I said quietly.

Reed watched me a moment. "You have a point," she nodded. "Part of me may want the House back...but Billings probably isn't what I'll need for the future," she paused briefly, "and it certainly isn't what I need in the present."

I eyed her curiously. "What do you need right now, Reed?"

That soft grin held still. "I've been spending a lot of time alone lately, and truth be told...I think I just need my friends."

I stared a second, then made a slight nod.

"You want to come in?"

I stepped forth. "Sure."

With a fuller smile now, Reed closed the door behind me as I left the hallway.


End file.
